Persona V - To Reign in Hell
by NoRoleModelz
Summary: Revolted by the hypocrisy of society, Akira Kanzaki becomes driven to defend the weak from cruelty by whatever means he deems just. But once he is faced with his own uselessness, he decides the only way forward is to confront his past with a burning desire for sweet revenge, putting him at odds with a Queen in an iron mask and a Wolf in a black helm. [OCXAkira, mild AkiraXMakoto]
1. Prologue, I

**Prologue: Living is Not Breathing.**

* * *

 **\- SECTION I -  
The red scarf flutters in the wind...**

* * *

The sky is grey and the air is cold. Little white snowflakes are floating down to me from the clouds. They hit my clothes and melt and all at once they stop existing and I'm fine with that. I'm walking on the white ground and there's a crumbling sensation at my feet which I quite enjoy as I make my stride.

I am walking to school diligently, as I do every morning. Kishibaru private school. Because my father had to have me settle for an education at a (relatively) low price without the lowliness of a public school. But more on my father later, when it matters.

I don't speak to anyone who doesn't speak to me. I don't look at anyone weirdly. I don't listen in to conversations that don't involve me. I do nothing and I pretend to be nothing, because who cares about what some rich kid with frizzy black hair has to say? _Just stick to the pattern and you'll be okay_ was my motto for every single day.

Leave house at 7:30 AM. Arrive at Kishibaru at 8:00. Read up on past lessons for the next thirty minutes before class starts and do what is expected untill 5:00. When I will arrive home at 5:30, I'll then study until dinner at 7:00 and then study again until 10:00. After that, I do whatever I want before midnight, when I sleep. Simple, easy pattern.

It's what's helped my grades stay up as well as they have. It's what's kept me safe from bullies for the last few years. Though every now and again I'd run into young men my age yet looking much older, brushing past my shoulders and eyeing me like my existence was a mistake to them. If not that, then I'd see other young men my age being accosted.

There was a boy I knew of once; he was a few months younger than I. His name was Yuji Kiriyama; he didn't have many friends during his time here because he was the quiet sort. His skin was pale, his back was arched, his arms and legs were bony. Unable to speak in front of large crowds, he would often sulk and slink away from the public eye. Though he did seem intelligent, according to his grades, he had not the fortitude to really socialize or make a name for himself, during the little time he spent in Kishibaru.

Each week, I'd see him handing over his money to the men who were my age yet looked older; each week, I would see him handing over his notes and helping others with certain subjects yet not getting any real gratitude for his altruism—just little nods, little _thank you_ s that would be forgotten immediately after they've been spoken. Every week I'd see a new bruise on his neck, around his eyes, on his forearms from somewhere; he would never say anything about them, not even to the very few actual noble souls who would dare ask.

I don't see him anymore. Heard he'd gone back to Kyoto or Gifu or wherever he'd come from.

You may be asking why I did nothing. Simply put: it didn't matter if I ever even did anything to speak to him.

After all, what can I say? Who am I to intrude into his life or anybody's? Nobody cares about me. Nobody wants to hear my words. I'm just another student. I have no influence over how people will view others or how others act or react. People do as people please. The whims of the world cannot change just because someone says or does something different.

At this time I believe in such things. At this time, I am fine with the way the world turns.

The bomb will drop soon.

The school day comes and the school day goes and nothing in the schedule is different. The world still turns the same way. Since there is a quiz on plants taking place next week, I head over to the library and grab as many books as i can on the subject. Had pages packed with notes, yes. Even had a recorder on during class. Still, couldn't hurt to want to know more.

But the books I borrow can't fit in my bag, so I have to carry them all the way to the front of my school and wait for my driver to pick me up. Predictably, I trip and fall down the stairs; such is what happens. So I stay in the middle of an empty hallway, on the third floor of my school. And I fix my things, I scold myself, biting my lip, asking how father would react if he were to see me this way, all that miserable stuff; and then I hear footsteps.

So much for nobody noticing me.

I give a weak sigh as I continue on arranging my books. It doesn't matter, whoever's walking toward me. It doesn't matter who's wearing the shoes tapping along the ground; it doesn't matter who is picking up one of my books and handing over to me; it doesn't matter who this person is because in the end, after they give me back my book we won't ever see each other again because such is the nature of the world.

"Here."

I now see her for the very first time.

She has blazing green eyes, large and round like a child's; raven black hair drifts over face and flows from her head all the way down to her shoulders, each strand of hair aglow with orange from the sunlight peering through the windows. She is as tall as I am. Her skin is white, almost like that of alabaster. Though she looks as young as I am, there is something in her eyes that tells me she's seen more than what people our age should be allowed to see. Still, she has something of a demure smile and I can't ignore how the peach freckles peppering her cheeks complement her eyes and her smile and the blackness of her hair _perfectly_.

A Kishibaru blazer meant for female students is wrapped around her waist, its arms knotted on her belly button. Wearing a black skirt, white socks, brown loafers, and a white polo shirt, she smiles a demure smile at me as she hands me my Science book. The moment I _know_ I won't ever forget her smile is the moment my eyes drift away from her lips and to the blood red scarf wrapped around her neck and draped over her shoulders.

"Hey, what happened to _you_?" she asks me, hand still carrying my notebook. "Am I _that_ ugly?"

"N-no!" I yelp out, the lump in my throat growing ever bigger by the second, "Not at all! It's just...well, you surprised me, that's all."

She has an incredulous sort of expression on her face as she furrows her brows, "I surprised _you_?"

I blink at her, wondering what she'd have thought my reaction to someone suddenly emerging from out of nowhere in the middle of an empty hall would've been. "Is that so hard to believe?"

She shrugs, somewhat trying to look casual, "No. Not really. But I'm glad to finally surprise someone in the good way."

"I...don't—"

"Never mind," she quickly says, grabbing about two of the five books lying around the floor, "where do you live? I'll help you take these home."

She must be joking. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Sure," she says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world to help someone she's never even met before carry their books all the way back to a house they've never even been to before.

"No, don't. It's fine," I tell her, "I have a driver outside, so—"

She just cuts in, "Then I'll help you take these to the driver."

All the while I grasp for a reason as to why she would possibly do something like this so suddenly, "N-no, come on. You shouldn't do that—"

"Why not?" she asks, _again_ as though doing this is all routine for her.

"Because I was the guy who borrowed these books and it doesn't feel right if someone else just—"

"I'm offering to help you here."

I look at her warily, unknowing what else I could say to her other than "Thank you for your concern, but I can handle this—"

She then drops the books, drops them right to my feet. And my eyes tear themselves away from the red of her scarf and move to the white of her teeth, her lips forming a coy smile. All at once the beauty fades away and all I feel is annoyed.

I ask her, "Why would you—?"

"You don't need my help," she smirks, arms folding.

I take in a very deep breath. Don't get mad, I tell myself. Getting mad will get you nothing. I kneel to the ground and start to pick up my books. But then she punts one of them, sending it three feet away from me.

"Oops," she smirks again.

"...Why did you do that?" I seethe, trying to keep my composure as best as possible.

"You said you didn't need my help," she says again, maintaining her smirk.

I sigh, "You could have handed it over to me."

"Yeah. I could have."

I stand up and head over to get my book, but I stop in my tracks; there is a hand on my shoulder.

"Dude," the girl snorts, chuckling somewhat. "You could just tell me to give it back to you."

"...but... _you_ kicked it away from me."

"You could've yelled in my face, y'know. Made me pick it up, or something."

For some reason, her face contorts, like she expected me to have done such a thing.

"I'm not that kind of person," I tell her simply.

"Are you kidding me? _You're_ letting someone like _me_ push you around?"

I don't like how she's addressed me, but I don't really bring it up. Don't want to talk about Dad, or the corporation; not at the moment. So I settle on asking, "How do you know about me?"

She blinks, surprised somewhat, " _Everybody_ knows who you are. Don't you hear the way people talk about you?"

I blink back at her and heave out a small breath, "I...don't really pay attention to those kinds of things."

"Well, you should. It's interesting, hearing the things people say about you..."

I think of asking her about the things that people say. But then I remember I shouldn't care, and instead a more interesting question pops to mind. "You're...not intimidated?"

"Should I be?"

I blink at her, "It wouldn't exactly be surprising if you _were_ intimidated."

"Well, I'm not," she says, her chest puffing out as she puts her hands on her hips. "That's for the weak."

"...the weak, huh...?"

"Yeah," she gives me a leery smile, as though she knows of my insecurities in those matters. Then, she picks up my book and hands it over to me.

" _Thank you_ ," I said, after managing to pile all the books into a tower of literature (as I like to call it) again.

"You sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

I walk about a meter or so before all my books fall from my hands again. The girl suddenly bursts into laughter and it quickly gets to the point I fear she'll die if she doesn't get any actual breathing in. I glare at her for a bit as she tries to compose herself. And then I begin picking up my books again, deciding not to care if she dies due to lack of oxygen.

"Oh, come on...," The girl stomps over to me, kneels down, and grabs about half the books before standing up to face me. "I'll carry these books, you carry the others."

I sigh again.

"Stop sighing. Just because you're rich doesn't give you the right to be so annoyed."

"Shut up," I grunt, deciding to let myself be visibly annoyed for once.

* * *

You may have caught on at this point that I'm not your ordinary student. Though my day-by-day pattern seems to indicate that. I'm the son of a businessman. Soichiro Kanzaki leads the Kanzaki Corporation, which specializes in electronics, gadgets, even toy manufacturing. It's spread out nationally, all over Japan. Reaching even places like Tokyo and competing with the likes of the Kirijo Group in terms of trending.

So I'm rich. And while the house I and my father live in is rather small, I still have a driver, valuable pieces of furniture, exorbitantly large paintings hanging by the walls, the works. I don't really try to show off my wealth around others, but word gets around easily on who I am the son of, and so it becomes all the easier for people who don't know me to back off.

Which is fine. In fact, it's the more acceptable option. I'd rather have nobody talk to me than have someone talk to me only for them to _somehow someway_ cause me trouble in the future.

You can imagine how I feel right now, with this girl who _has_ caused me trouble. Breathing down my neck and decidedly _not_ leaving me alone. We are outside the school gates. My driver, Yoshida, has parked his car right in front of us and has opened the door, gesturing for me to head inside the back seat. The sedan is black and it is boring and it doesn't look like anything a rich person should be driven in, but it is fine. All a car is, is just a means of transportation.

The air is cold and the sky is grey. The school grounds are largely empty, so it's just me and her and my driver out in the snow.

"Master Akira, I've been waiting for you."

Kouichi Yoshida is a man in his sixties who looks as though he's in his thirties. He's already got grey hair but he's managed to style it into something resembling silver. His eyes are aged and weary, but he has _very_ well-defined cheekbones and his skin is still as white as it was the day he was born. He smiles at me as I and the girl at my side look at him, though he smiles with a little more excitement at the edges of his lips than usual.

"Sorry for keeping you, Yoshida. I ran into some trouble," I say to him.

"I'm sure," he smirks, turning to the aforementioned girl. "Who's this young lady?"

I blink, turning to the girl. "I've just realized I didn't ask you your name yet."

"You only got that now?" she chuckled, brow raised. "I was waiting for hours."

I give her a neutral expression, "We only met each other a few minutes ago."

She nods, "It felt like hours to me."

I sigh once more, "You're the strangest person I've ever met."

"Told you to stop sighing," she scoffed. "And by the way, the name's Kana. Kana Kohaku."

I blink at her again, more than a little eager to get in the car and leave her. "Nice to meet you, Kohaku-san."

But her attention quickly shifts away from me and to the elderly man before us both. "Anyway, you have a butler, too?"

I say to her, "Driver, not butler."

"Hmm. Neat," she says back, smiling coquettishly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kohaku-san," Yoshida says, lowering his upper body before Kohaku raises her hand at him.

"Don't bow to me," she laughs with that wry smirk of hers that I can't help but loathe somewhat. "I don't need it. I'm not one o' you _rich_ people."

"...Very well, then," Yoshida chuckles in amusement, moving and gesturing again to the open door. I head in the car, Kohaku handing me the rest of my books as I take my seat.

"Well, thank you very much for your help today, Kohaku-san," I say in an attempt to sound as formal and forgettable as possible, hoping it'd be enough to get her off my back. "I'll see you around—"

"Call me Kana."

...

I blink at her and I stammer and I blush kind of madly because this is the very first time a girl of any sort has told me to call her by her first name, but I make myself stop freaking out just in time for me to ask, "Y-your first name?"

"Yeah," she chuckles again, as I flail in my awkwardness. "Just call me Kana."

Again I flail because I'm nervous to my bones but I manage to come out again with, "Wh-why? Isn't that—?"

She shrugs, "Doesn't matter to me if we just met or if we've been friends for a billion years. Call me Kana. Calling me by my last name is too formal. Not used to it."

The way she says it all so casually shames me, and in my shame I can't help but mutter out a meek, "So...K-Kana, thanks for your help."

"...can I ask a favor of you?" she suddenly says. "I know it's on extremely short notice, but...could you help me study for the quiz we've got on this?"

I blink at her again. "You're...in the same class as I am?"

"You never noticed."

I shake my head, "S-sorry..."

It's her turn to sigh, now, "Look...I know we didn't really start off on the right foot. I've seen your scores. You do really well at quizzes...and I'm dumber than a bag of hammers. I really want to do better in schoolwork, but it's hard for me. Please...throughout the week, can you help me?"

"No," is my simple reply.

She blinks. "N- _no_?"

"You read the books incrementally. Day by day. You read the lessons at your own pace. Doing problems and exercises along the way. If you get them wrong, you go back to the lessons and try again till you get it right. It's simple. I don't see how I can help you out here."

"I've _tried_ ," she grunts. "Believe me, I've tried that. I've tried reviewing on my own time. I really do my best to study and make stuff work, but it never pans out. I'm just not good at it. Please. I'm begging you."

"If you can't make it, you can't make it. I'm sorry," I say to her. "I don't tutor people. It gets in the way of my schedule."

"You really can't help me...?" she asks. There's a desperation in her eyes now, something that I feel pained to see, but I press on.

"I can. It's just that I don't want to. People can help themselves."

"I've tried to help myself, and it doesn't work," she says.

"Then try harder," I say as I close the door, right in her face.

Yoshida pauses, squares his shoulders, and drives.

And then she walks away. Turning her back to me, to the car. The red scarf flutters in the wind as she walks down the street, and she disappears as she turns around the corner of the school and as Yoshida drives the car in the opposite direction.

* * *

Yoshida is usually reserved for when I go to places beyond my commuter's route. But I asked him to come because I didn't feel like commuting home today, and he had free time. The lights of the city go in a blur, different cars and different people passing us by. The streets are packed and the world is alive as it often is at night. But all that is on my mind is the next day, where I live out my life by my schedule again and continue this until I get out of high school and live what little else of my life I've got left. The snow is coming down hard and the sky is dark now because it is evening. The air conditioner is off because it is cold enough as it is.

It is fifteen minutes in and I am blowing my hands in an attempt to keep them warm, when Yoshida decides to take a dare.

"Young Master, a word."

"Hmm?"

"You could have just agreed to her request," he says. "To my knowledge, you don't partake in any extracurricular activities. It isn't as if she'd get in the way of anything; I doubt your father would disapprove, because you'd be studying hard yourself while helping her. Why reject her?"

I lean forward in my seat and clasp my hands together. "She can do it on her own. Everyone can. She says I'm smart, when really all I do is follow the advice Father gives me. I'm not naturally more intelligent than anybody else. I genuinely worked as best as I could to get the grades I have now. She doesn't need me to help herself out."

"Well, far be it from me to tell you what to do with your time, Master; but just a suggestion," says Yoshida. "If you'll not do it for her sake, then for yours," says Yoshida. "Youth is fleeting. It may do you good to find friends. You're growing quickly, Master. In the future, wherever your life will take you can only be decided by you, regardless of your status as heir to the company. I don't think you should undertake such a journey alone."

At this, I do not speak up again. I look out the window and lean my head against the door. I do not want to answer him. I am upset now, and I do not know why I am upset. So he and I continue the drive home in silence as my thoughts of the quiz tomorrow begin to fade and instead bitter things involving girls with red scarves take their place.

He's wrong. If anything, life's fleetingness makes a folly of making friends or starting relationships. Conversations begin and conversations end. People come and people go. Lives are born, lives are ended. Relationships are formed, relationships break apart. Like glass.

What's the point of relying on fragile things like that to help you make it through life? If your will is so easily breakable that a lack of any kind of relationship in your life will destroy you, then you've no business living. Nature is in and of itself, chaotic. There's no telling what will happen to you or anyone else. Therefore, it is imperative you live for yourself and yourself alone, ensure your own survival above anyone else's. The world doesn't care about you, so you shouldn't care about it and should only concern yourself with how you ought to live.

I do not know what is to come in the next few days, and I am unaware of how wrong I am to treat Kana Kohaku the way I do. I am unaware of how important she will become to me and for now I am comfortable in my seat. I am comfortable with the way the world turns, and I do not need some stranger who's too kind for her own good to mess that up for me.

So I say to myself.

The world is still a blur. The people still pass us by. The snowflakes dotting the windshields are still melting quickly.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

* * *

This story was once a 12,000 word prologue for my fanfic/novelization of _Persona 5_. But I deleted the original story and I'm planning to do some refurbishing. Been playing _Persona 5_ and I have to say that it's quite amazing. Though what was even more amazing was that the headcanon I'd planned for my protagonist actually really gelled with the story.

However, I recognized that some parts could've been better written, especially considering how rushed the original prologue had been. I also wanted to change up some sequences and dropped a whole 'nother fic that was a side-story to this that I thought would serve a purpose but would only make things much longer than they'd have any right to be. Which is bad for me, and my college life.

So. I'm going to reupload the next few chapters of the prologue steadily. Now that I have a better grasp on the story itself, I feel it appropriate to take a more nuanced approach to the background of our protagonist. Who will be named Akira Kanzaki. **Not** Akira Kurusu. Because I predicted his name would be Akira Kanzaki and I'm more than happy with the fact that I'd managed to get his first name and the first letter of his surname correctly. I'm just petty like that.

Hope you guys like what I've got planned. 'Cause it's a real doozy.

 **Note: Removed age of Akira. Wanted to make timeframe of prologue relatively more ambiguous in relation to the story. Also removed timeframe, to help things stay more ambiguous in relation to the rest. Gonna do so for the rest of the chapters as well.**


	2. Prologue, II

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION II -  
Who can judge another on how he ought to live?**

* * *

I am thinking about quizzes. I am thinking about homework. I am thinking about a great many things, all of which involve school. I am walking the thirty-minute long walk to Kishibaru and the sky is still grey and the air is still cold. My hands are gloved and I am wearing a scarf with a red-and-black flannel pattern. Despite this, I can still see my breath turn to clouds every time I open my mouth.

But every now and again my thoughts drift to a girl with a red scarf and I turn annoyed. It's honestly baffling. The first person to talk to me in years talks to me as though we've known each other for such a long time. Perhaps we did know each other, from some other lifetime I've forgotten. Perhaps she is just _that_ carefree a person, to be able to present herself so informally to a stranger. Perhaps she just acts how normal girls this day and age act, and I'm just some socially awkward fool that knows no better.

Time passes, however, and I am getting closer to the school. The familiar feeling of just another ordinary day is coming upon me again, and so for a moment I feel almost relaxed with myself. But then I hear her call out my name, "Kanzaki!"

I remember that voice, I remember Kana Kohaku, and I remember her requests for me to help her study for the quiz next week. I'm walking at a faster rate now because I don't want to speak to her and I don't want to be pestered about requests to tutor her on _plants_ , but before I can walk any further she manages to rush forward and cut me off.

Hoped not to see her again. Hoped not to speak to her again. She doesn't need me to tutor her and I don't need someone like her butting into my life.

"Dude, I called out your name," she says, more than a little agitated at my refusal to even acknowledge her presence.

"You don't need me to help you study," I say to her, hoping getting straight to the point will drive her away faster.

"I can barely afford tuition," she replies quickly, her brows furrowing and her breaths hitched. "Hiring an actual tutor will suck out what little cash I've got left for savings. I'm begging you."

"I told you, I don't want to help you," I say to her.

"I _know_ you said that! But you also said that it gets in the way of your schedule! I've done my research; you don't have any clubs, you don't hang out with anybody at lunch—even during class, you don't say a thing unless the teacher makes you recite something. And you always get the questions right, you always get a hundred _or higher_ because of bonuses—"

"I'm not the only one in the class with good grades," I cut in.

However, she bites back, "But you're the only one who gets _everything right_ in _every exam_."

Ambitious girl. That, I can admire. But ambition only goes so far. "The only reason I do any good in my exams is because my father taught me how to properly study from a very young age. I'm not so sure, even with my help, if you'll be able to reach that level by next week."

"Well, there's no harm in trying," she insists. "Besides, I helped you out with your books yesterday—"

"—after kicking them out of my hands."

"—oh _come on_ , I legitimately helped you get them to your driver by the end of it all!" she cries out.

"You chose to help me out. I never asked for your help, and even insisted you leave me alone," I say, my eyes narrowing at her.

The world is cruel. The world is unkind. If you cannot live with that, you cannot live in general. Pain and suffering is inevitable, but if you allow that pain to dictate your whole life then what use are you to anyone? Might as well just up and leave everything and everyone behind.

But at my cruelty and unkindness, she does not scold me. She does not begin ranting and raving at me, she does not make demands. All that happens is her shoulders lower and she looks utterly deflated. "Is there nothing I can say to get you to help me?"

And at this, I am moved somewhat. Expected her to be angry with me, expected her to lash out and call me the names I knowand have heard people call me behind my back. A bookworm, a privileged fool, a money-grubbing hound who only seeks to further his own goal in life without compunction. They would not be wrong.

But she is just demoralized. Anger, I'm used to. Despondence, not exactly. Probably will have to get used to that, if I'm ever gonna run a business. But at the moment I just don't...feel right.

It gets to the point where I just _have_ to ask, "Why do you want to get a perfect score, even? Most people are pleased with a passing grade. If you want to get a scholarship, then...," she gives an uncomfortable expression as she averts her gaze, pursing her lips and scrunching up her nose. "Unless...you want something more than a scholarship?"

She looks at me.

Her hair is still messy, but I can see her face and her eyes clearly. Her mouth is still. Her eyes are wide, and she is frowning not as a show of anger, but as a plea. Her green eyes almost seem to burn with something I can't quite describe and for just a second she looks colorful and bright and _alive_ , even in the face of the hazy grey winter season.

Her black hair is drifting over her eyes and her nose and her freckles and it's all messy, like she didn't bother to comb it before leaving for school. I see the white clouds come from her mouth as she struggles to come up with words to say as her hands drift over her head, fixing her hair. It is at this point I finally notice that she is still wearing that blood-red scarf she wore the day before.

She's not saying anything, but she is straightening her back and she is looking at me the way no girl has ever looked at me before, looking at me the way old-fashioned types would deem unbecoming of a woman. I, on the other hand, can't help but find myself enraptured by the green of her eyes—and all at once I can't help but give in.

"I want more than a scholarship. I want more than a happy life," she responds, the conviction in her voice enough to make me step back. But the her eyes drift downward as she sinks her head lower into her scarf. "I want a lot of things."

She doesn't say that in a proud way. She doesn't say that in a happy way. She's just being witheringly honest.

"Let's talk at lunch," is all I say to her. "Where would you like to meet up?"

She blinks, stunned for a second. Her shoulders jolt as she stammers out some noises before coming out with, "—i-is the rooftop okay?"

Not the cafeteria or even the bleachers? Never really gone up there myself, but it can't hurt. Not like students are prohibited from heading up there, after all. "Sure."

That is the last thing I say to her before I head into the school grounds. I don't notice her keeping her eyes on the back of my head as I make my way inside and get myself prepared for what I know will _not_ be just any ordinary school day.

* * *

Class is spent _not_ vigorously taking down notes like some mad genius, but instead pondering about a certain someone with a red scarf.

Kana Kohaku. Transferred to Kishibaru last year, having come all the way from Nagoya. Not terribly social. Not terribly popular. Heard a thing or two about her, some unpleasant things; rumors that will be brought up later in conversation. Heard stuff about how she works at a burger joint as a part-time job and have even heard reports of her reportedly being rather...promiscuous when it comes to older men. But rumors are rumors and they don't matter at the moment.

Words about her spread 'round my class so quickly upon her arrival that it's almost worthless to even bring her up anymore, but people still do because she's always been the enigma nobody really cares much to really solve. People _say_ she does stuff like sleep around, go to parties, but nobody's seen her actually _do_ it. People _say_ she lives in luxury with her parents in some rich condo, but nobody's actually made an effort to go visit her.

And I don't understand it at all.

She was not the first person to have ever come to me and ask for help regarding grades. There have been others, even from other classes. I've shot them all down and I've told them the same thing I told her. They can do it themselves. They hardly need someone like me. All they _need_ is the will to power on. To actually sit down and study like the students they are. Work and work and work. I know everyone can do it because I've done it, and I'm basically nothing.

I don't like dealing with people. They're nice to you when you're nice to them. They're cruel to you when you're cruel to them. And between those two constants are different degrees of apathy. Even if I am to agree to help them out, they will cast me aside when they're done with me; and then probably just ask me for help again when they'd need me a second time. Because that is how they are.

People are not good nor evil; they are animals. Animals do as they please with what their surroundings give to them, acting upon their instincts and desires. If something threatens them or their territory, they fight. If something expresses good will towards them, chances of fighting just grow slimmer. But the chance is always there.

I don't like taking chances. I don't like relying on abstract things like hope or luck to ensure my success in life. And I certainly don't like relying on others to help me through it, either.

You may say these are the foolish rantings of a privileged young man who knows nothing about the suffering of the lower/middle class, and you may bring up the fact that I'm the heir to a multi-millionaire corporation. But I'm not wrong. Riches, even inherited ones, can be squandered easily. You can live your entire life with success after success, but one measly failure can bring you down in a second. Kings can become janitors, monsters can be pardoned for their crimes, and good men can die for no reason at all.

As I've said, nature is chaotic.

All you can do in this world is survive as best you can and live out your life. Allow others to do what they want, so long as no harm comes to you. How could that be flawed? The world of man is a world of perspectives. Different people have different views on right and wrong, justice and injustice, pain and pleasure. Who can judge another on how he ought to live? What right do you have to demand something of others, even after they decline to serve you?

I've made the decision long ago to follow the path my father has set for me. Becoming the head of the Kanzaki Corporation will basically set me for life, and it will lessen any fuss if I have good credentials. With my grades and my study habits, I'll surely get myself into a good university and lead the company to further successes. I can't allow for any distractions from anything or anyone.

She's a distraction. So why did I relent?

Why have I agreed to help her? She'll only ask for my help again when she'll need me. She'll only prove detrimental to my own efforts to study. I'll surely be awkward. Probably going to be of no use to her at all. But perhaps she can help me as well, in her own way.

I find myself recalling Yoshida's words. Statements about how no man is an island, how life is fleeting and I should have people to accompany me through its fleetingness. While I dislike people, to be perfectly realistic, I _will_ have to work with them when the time comes. There is some truth to Yoshida's statements, and there are benefits to interacting with others, especially to those who are fated to run whole companies when they come of age.

So when the morning classes end and lunchtime hits and everybody except me and her leaves the classroom, she and I both get up off our seats. I nod at her and she nods at me, and we both make our way up the long steps up — all the way to the rooftop of Kishibaru.

The walk is silent and I have my hands in my pockets while she is keeping hers behind her back. She isn't looking at me and her face is buried deep within her scarf. I briefly wonder why of all times _now_ she's acting so nervous, when yesterday she seemed all-too keen to kick my books out of my hands for fun. But as we walk in our awkwardness there is something in the cold air that makes me feel a little warm and for some reason I begin to wonder just _what_ she could want besides a scholarship that would make her so jumpy and so desperate so as to ask someone as socially inept as I for help in her studies.

When we get to the roof, the air feels so much colder than it has any right to be, but she and I couldn't care less at this point. She makes her way to the railings, curling her hand upon the steel and keeping her back to me. The silence grows and grows to the point where it's palpable and then she suddenly turns to me after taking in an unnecessarily big breath.

"You...don't pay attention to rumors, right?" she asks.

I blink at her, "I don't try to concern myself with them.."

She looks at me for a few seconds before turning her head away. She is now looking at the cityscape, looking at the different buildings and how they cloister together, stretching to the grey horizon as snow falls all over the world. She then says, "So you haven't heard of what people say about me. About how _easy_ I am, with the guys."

I blink at her once again, scratching the back of my head. "I may have heard a thing or two about _that_ , actually."

She looks at me again and her eyes are like blunt daggers.

I've heard things about a girl with green eyes and a red scarf. Nasty things that would be whispered by both boys and girls, things that shouldn't ever be said about anyone. Questions about panty colors, about how many STDs she _must_ have, about how many must have shared her bed, about black lace and so on and so forth.

Only thing I never really got was a name.

So I say, "Should that matter, in this particular case?"

She lowers her daggers and goes back to averting her gaze, heaving out a quick breath and saying, "It could. They rumors are...not entirely inaccurate..."

"I see," I say.

Truthfully, I don't care much if she _is_ as easy as the rumors say she is. People do as people please and none of their business should be mine. But for the _briefest_ moment I wonder what this has to do with studying to the point of perfection until my brain cells kick in and I remember talks of scholarships.

"What did you mean when you said you wanted _more_ than a scholarship?" I ask her.

"I've tried to turn myself around, really I have," she says. "But my reputation's already preceded me, it seems. Even _you_ caught wind of the rumors...," she laughs joylessly, each _ha_ sounding like she's dying more inside. But she manages to come outright with, "I wanna get a good letter of recommendation, so I can get a scholarship to Tokyo U."

My ears twitch as all I can find in myself to say is, "Lofty goal. But...specifically, Tokyo U?"

"Truthfully, I'm willing to take on any college, if they'll have me. But for now, Tokyo U is the best option. It's closest to home; plus it has a real good medical division."

My eyes widen at her as her true motives dawn upon me. "You want to become a doctor."

She nods, knowing how little I can believe it. She then stays silent for a time and lets the question hang in the air until she comes out with, "Can't be one with grades as bad as mine. If they keep on being as bad as they are, I won't make it past _entrance exams_ , let alone get a scholarship grant. A letter of recommendation'll be hard to come by with my reputation...so I've no choice but to try and get one on my own merits. And by _my own merits_ , I mean..."

She turns to me.

My shoulders deflate.

"Since when did you _really_ start trying to study?" I ask her.

She hangs her head low. "Since the beginning of the year."

"And nobody's been able to help you at all in this regard?"

She laughs that half-laugh of hers before saying, "The only people who talk to me nicely are guys. Though they don't _always_ say nice things, either...girls like to gossip a lot until the person they're gossiping about actually walks over to them. Then they try making a fool out of her, or they make a fool out of themselves."

"And that brings you to me."

"Yes." She removes her hands from the railing and she looks at me intently with that look she had on earlier this morning, that look I will never be able to forget. But instead of maintaining this look, she suddenly gets on her knees and plants herself on all fours. She arranges herself in a bowing position that most men would abhor due to how much it looks like grovelling, but she doesn't care because at this point she _is_ grovelling and _is_ desperate enough and lacks that much pride.

"I'm sorry for causing you trouble, Akira Kanzaki. But please. Can you help me study for all my exams and quizzes until college entrance exams?"

She's not telling me everything. I know she isn't. No one would lower themselves to this degree out of just any regular kind of desperation. What could she be hiding? Why would she be hiding it? All signs pointed to something to do with her reputation. Been here for a year or so. Tendency to be rather liberal with her _endeavors_ has been affirmed. Nobody talks about her, but her lifestyle is apparent enough to lend itself to some unsavory rumors. Her desperation is palpable and her will is all shrivelled up and the idea that there has to be something else at play here is too big to ignore, so I ask:

"Do you have a child?"

She tears herself up from the ground and looks at me as though I am her worst fears come to life. She does not say anything, grasping at syllables and stammering out things and noises and the noises she makes are all the answers I need. But still, she manages to come out with a whimpering, "Nobody can know."

I soften my voice as I ask her, "How old?"

"Turned two last February," is all she says after a period of silence.

I turn back to her in shock, "You had him when you were fourteen?" I ask.

"Fifteen," she corrects. "Was held back for a year when I got _her_...," she gets up from off the ground. "My parents, thank God, were willing to take care of her with me after her dad jumped ship. But they can't do all the work forever. I need to pick up the pace."

"And...nobody in the school knows this?" I ask her.

She crosses her arms as she states, "Principal knows. Parents told him. He's sympathetic, not that his sympathy matters much. Everyone else doesn't know, and _you'd better not say a thing_ —"

"I won't. I'm not a monster. But where'd they get the idea that you're... _easy_ with the guys?"

She sighs, "Girls here? Not too different from the girls back in Nagoya. You get on their nerves once and they decide to hound you whenever they don't have anything better to do. Luckily, anything they spread about my kid on the web is drowned by all the other rumors they spewed about me. I'm pretty much a prostitute now, according to what they say. "

"I see. So this _guy_..."

"Seemed nice," she interrupts. "Seemed. Moment I had our kid, I never heard from him again. Never even saw him again. Not that I'd want to."

"The Principal had to have given you benefits of some kind."

"He did. _That_ 's how bad my finances are, too. And _no_ , I won't ask you to give me money, if that's what you're thinking."

"Wouldn't even do it if you asked," I reply, smirking a bit. I then decide to lean against the rails of the roof. "Funny. If you started with the kid, I'd have accepted sooner."

She blinks. "You don't think I'm lying."

"No," I say. "I really don't."

"I could be lying. For all you know, my kid doesn't even exist," she mutters. "Thought you'd think I was lying, that's why I didn't say anything about it —"

"I don't think you are."

"Why?"

I tilt my head and shrug. "Gotta feeling."

She looks at me, momentarily stunned, before chuckling out in a small fit of laughter. And when she laughs this time, it's not a half-laugh.

This time, I see the whole universe in her closed eyes and open mouth, I hear music from her voice that sounds as though Mozart had come back to life a million times over, I hear stars collide and for a single second the grey world turns into a white canvas that's been splattered with too many colors, too many shades of paint splattering all over everything and anything.

She is not lying when she says she has a child. And she is not lying when she says she needs help. So I will help her. At the very least, for now. I will help her till she will be able to stand on her feet and carry herself and her family all the way to whatever paradise she longs for in Tokyo U.

So I ask her, "What's her name?"

And as the chuckling dies down, she wipes her eye; then she smiles again, a beautiful smile that's as big as the whole wide world, and she says, "Masako."


	3. Prologue, III

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION III -  
...it's suddenly my job to keep her safe no matter the cost.  
**

* * *

It is winter and I have entered a girl's room for the very first time.

Kana's room is small, as is to be expected since she lives in a condo. We've come here on a Saturday, and it's been thirty minutes since we've left Kishibaru. We've agreed to spend the evening and tomorrow afternoon studying for what is to come. But we haven't started yet because Kana's making tea and even though I told her not to, she insisted.

So I am waiting alone in her room and I am sitting on the ground with my legs crossed. My bag is to my left and there is a _kotatsu_ in front of me; Kana's bag and books having been arranged across from me, on the other side of the small table. The room is a thick color of white and there's another table against the wall adjacent to the shoji screen, and on the other table there is a small TV and a cable box at the foot of said TV.

There is a crib, and it is next to me.

There are no sounds coming from inside the crib. The crib itself creaks and it groans as wood does, but whatever is inside the crib doesn't make a sound, and is obscured by padding on all sides.

I don't know why I'm standing up. I don't know why I'm peering over the crib. But as I see Masako...for a very brief moment, I feel the desperation Kana must have felt in begging me to help her study. For a very brief moment, I regret not accepting her request sooner.

Then I hear someone enter the room, and I turn to see Kana setting down a tray with two small cups of tea on the _kotatsu_. She then slowly walks over to me and, with me, looks over the sleeping Masako in her crib. Both of us are quiet, both of us are still, and both of us nearly begin to forget why we came here in the first place. It is Kana who perks up, however, and taps me on the shoulder. I nod at her, and then we both set ourselves down at the table.

"She gets her looks from her mom," Kana then says with a smirk, her voice marginally louder than a whisper.

I get my books from my bag and ask, "Her dad leave for any particular reason, or...?"

"Didn't wanna shoulder the responsibility, is all. He wanted an abortion, I didn't," she shrugs. "Arguments happened, then he left the picture. Dunno what's become of him since then."

"You have any part-time jobs?" I ask, setting the books on the table.

"Been working as a cashier at Big Bang Burger for the past three months. The pay is good, plus I'm on the cusp of getting a promotion because I work long hours," she says with more than a little pride.

I raise my brow, "So who takes care of Masako while you're out?"

"Dad works 'round the clock at some firm; it takes him hours to commute and it's a nine-to-five job, so he doesn't have much time to help out at home. But I'm just glad he's providing for us. Mom stays and compensates for us. While I'm at school or at work, she tends to Masako and does a way better job at it than I ever could."

"So where's your mother?" I ask. "She doesn't seem to be around at the moment..."

Kana just casually says, "She's buying medicine."

I blink at her, "Medicine?"

"Masako's not the strongest girl in the world," she says, somewhat numbly.

After a bit of a silence, I ask, "Gets sick often?"

She nods, "She was born a few weeks before she should've been. We're lucky she's developed as much as she has now, but still...her immune system's got a ways to go." But then she shakes her head and assures me, "Never mind, that shouldn't matter right now. What're we doing? We should be studying," and then she breaks out some small half-chuckles and I immediately tell myself not to pursue this conversation further, lest I strike a sensitive spot.

"Okay. So. Quiz about the biology of plants. Now. What do you call what happens when green plants use sunlight to create food from from carbon dioxide and water?"

"Photosynthesis," she says almost immediately, her eyes having become dead serious.

"Good. What's the etymology of the term _photosynthesis_?"

"No clue," she says, her mouth curling into another smirk.

I blink at her and ask, "How many times were you absent from the class?"

"...a lot," she says meekly. "Weeks at a time..."

"You wondered why I didn't recognize you as one of our classmates," I say to her, arms crossing.

"Do you know anybody in our class, even?" she says, palms facing the ceiling. "You don't even talk to anyone, from what I know of you. I have a _kid_ , at least I have an excuse."

"I don't talk to people because talking to people stops me from doing other things," I say defensively.

"Like what? _Studying_?" she scoffs.

"Pretty much, yeah," I smirk at her, knowing how disappointing an answer that must be. "I study every day. If I don't keep my mind sharp, then it'll all turn to mush."

She props her chin on her hand and says, "Can't hurt to take a break every once in a while."

I raise my head at her and say in defiance, "I take breaks."

"What do you do _then_? _Read_?"

I don't say anything. I am unable to. For yet another brief moment, I feel embarrassment.

"You must be joking," she laughs, but her tone turns genuinely inquisitive. "What do you read, though?"

"Mostly old books. _Lord of the Rings_ , _Watchmen_ , some manga here and there," I tell her, enthused by the idea that someone is interested in what I read in my spare time.

"You have any favorites, though?" she asks, not knowing the significance of such a question.

I remember yellow scarves, asteroids with coded names, different planets full of different people, all reflections of the mundanity of adulthood. I think of pilots and deserts and snakes, and roses kept in glass cases. Foxes roaming across fields and speaking of essential things. It gets to the point where I tell her almost immediately, " _The Little Prince_."

She blinks, somewhat stunned by how quickly I was able to say that, and she says, "Heard it's a good book. Never got to reading it, myself."

"If you want a bedtime story for Masako that'll last, you read her that book," I urge her. "I assure you, she'll remember it for the rest of her life."

"That good, huh...?" she asks. "Perhaps you could lend me a copy, then. Might actually get to reading it when I've got some time on my hands."

"Perhaps when the next quiz hits," I say to her. But she appears to have had something else in mind.

She blinks, her hand still propping up her chin, "We could just...hang out around lunchtime, you know. You could lend me the book and we could just talk and stuff."

"I head to the library around lunchtime," I say to her. "I read. I study. The works."

"That's the reason you just didn't wanna help me at first?" she asks. "Do you really even _want_ to study? What about it makes you enjoy it so much? It all just seems so routine."

I reply, "I wouldn't say I _like_ it, necessarily. It's what will help sustain my future, so I do it. I'm good at it, so I might as well take my time with it. It comes easily to me. Ever since I was a kid, my father's been telling me what I'm meant to do when I take over the Corporation. Since I don't really have a reason to reject it, I don't find anything wrong with going along with the flow. I don't like breaking pattern. I don't like doing things I'm not used to."

"But how would you know anything's wrong with breaking pattern if you don't give it a try every now and again?" she asks, looking genuinely frustrated.

"There's little point to it. If I'm fine where I am, why should I try doing something more? If the way I live is adequate for me, then why should I expand?"

So she blinks and she asks the most obvious question: "So you're just helping me 'cause of Masako?"

I just turn to the crib, and then turn back to her. I needn't say anything. And both she and I stay silent for the longest time. But then we hear some noises coming from beyond the room, like thumping. We hear the sound grow louder and faster the closer it comes to the room. Kana seems used to this noise and all she does is peer over the crib, checking on Masako as the door opens.

There is an older woman with green eyes and black hair coming into the room. She is wearing a black overcoat that stretches down to her shins and she is wearing black heels and stockings. She lets out a tired breath and a smile, lifting up a plastic bag as Kana turns to her. But then the woman takes notice of me and asks, "Friend of yours?"

She just blinks, "Sort of."

The older woman eyes me before letting out a smirk and lowering the plastic bag to the floor. She goes to me and stares, sizing me up like she's wondering if I'm worthy of something. She smiles, "So you're Akira Kanzaki, huh...?"

Kana sharply turns as I manage, "Yes...Kana has spoken of me?"

"Already on a first-name basis, huh?" the woman says, smiling widely now. "No. I just know Soichiro from a past life."

I blink at her. "Y-you _know_ my father?"

"He and I were friends," she says, before turning to Kana, "Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to him?"

Kana blushes a little, stepping forward and rubbing the back of her head. "She's my mom," she tells me, more than a little shyly.

"And we have a _lot_ of things to discuss, young man," she says, turning again to Kana. "I've bought some groceries! We can talk in Kana's room. I'll prepare the food," she then turns to me, "there's just so much I have to know about you."

Kana's stammering now, "M-Mom, seriously, it's okay—"

"No, nonsense! He's a guest here! I'd feel guilty if I didn't spend some time getting to know him!" Kana's mother says, already heading down the steps.

"Mom, wait!" Kana pleads, rushing out to the door and trying out one last ditch effort to get her mother to stop.

But of course, she doesn't listen, and she's already in the living room by the time she says, "Come along, you two! I think there's some tea in the cupboard..."

Kana looks at me like she's wondering what I'm about to say to that, as though asking what she herself should do as well. But all I do is shrug and move back to my seat, crossing my legs and sitting down.

I've already come this far, anyway. Why not have a dinner of sorts with this girl's mother? I hear the clattering of pots and pans and tea kettles already; it'd be inconvenient for everybody if I were to just reject the offer to stay and talk.

* * *

I, Kana, and her mother have all sat ourselves around the _kotatsu_ in her room. Because if Masako would need something, somebody would have to be close by. Might as well have all three of us there. It worries me, how Kana's mother would freely and rather loudly talk even around a sleeping child, but the look in Kana's eyes seem to say that she's done this many times before; perhaps Masako's just a heavy sleeper.

Kana's mother talks and asks and wonders aloud, wonders about me. Every time she speaks she practically vomits out words, able to churn out paragraphs in the span of a second. All the while Kana shifts uncomfortably in her seat, blushing madly and refusing to look at either of us.

"So, how did you and my daughter meet? She's told me things about 'getting the smartest guy in class' to help her..."

"She asked me to help her study for our next quiz. It's on the biology of plants," I respond, trying to not feel too flattered.

"That's awfully nice of you," she says, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Kana and I were _really supposed to get to studying_ at the moment. "I didn't think the son of Soichiro Kanzaki, of all people, would be willing to help her out in that regard. No offense, but it just seemed like such a huge coincidence..."

It is good that we've already gotten to the interesting bits, "So...how do you know my father?"

Kana looks like she wants to say something because she knows this conversation'll end much later than it really should, but her mother cuts in again. "I met him in high school; I befriended Mizuki just as she'd begun going steady with him."

Now that intrigues me. "You also know my mother?"

"She and I became fast friends in our second year," she laughs. "In fact, I bet you'd find the story of how she and your father met rather interesting. Please tell me if this sounds familiar: a girl asks the smartest guy in the class to help her with her studies?"

I blink, turning to Kana. Kana doesn't wanna look at me or say anything and her face is practically boiling red with embarrassment, but we continue the conversation. "Yes. That does sound rather familiar..."

"Well. It really is unfortunate, what happened to them both," says Kana's mother, something sad in her eyes.

I nod, "It is, but there's no use dwelling on it. What's done is done."

Kana looks at us both and asked me, "Uh, what's going on with your parents...?"

"They divorced two years ago," I say. "Could barely stand each other at home, hated each other even more outdoors. Honestly, it wasn't surprising that they split."

"You're very mature about this," Kana's mother says, Kana herself widening her eyes at the conversation taking place right in front of her.

"People feel how they feel, and their reactions to how they feel are their own. If they felt the need to divorce each other, so be it. Personally thought it was the better option, compared to them staying together and being at each other's throats all the while."

"It's sad they split...," Kana's mother says. "If there was anybody who could melt that heart of stone your father has, I thought for sure it would've been your mother."

"Funny," I chuckle. "She was close. Dad immediately changes the conversation whenever she's brought up in any meaningful fashion."

"Then it wasn't all for nothing," she laughs. "That being said...I must know: how's he doing now? He barely ever calls, and when he does it's brief."

"He's very busy. Recently, he's been more engrossed in his work than ever," I say.

"He still really hasn't changed, then...," she says, shaking her head.

Kana tries to say something, "Mom—" but is interrupted.

"Then, how is your mother? She's not called me up in years, either."

"Haven't heard from Mom, either," I tell her. "After the divorce, she moved to Sapporo and never looked back. Perhaps she's found someone else, perhaps she hasn't. Either way, she hasn't called us up once."

"Not even a single visit since...?"

"No," I say.

"That girl has some nerve...," she sighs, leaning back in her seat. "I'm sorry. She used to be so cheerful, back in high school..."

"It's fine," I say, trying to think of something to say that would lift the focus of conversation away from my parents, but Kana's mother doesn't seem to want to let up.

"Kana, when did you tell him about Masako?" she suddenly asks her daughter, who begins stammering and stuttering and trying to regain herself in time to say something.

"I-I tried to keep it secret till I couldn't afford it, but he figured it out...," she manages.

"What, did you guess?" Kana's mother asks me.

"She asked me to help her study, even bowed," I say, heedless of Kana's embarrassment. "Wondered why she would go that far, and I began to ask questions. One thing led to another."

Kana's mother doesn't move. She doesn't say anything, just looking at me intently, like something about me has rung alarms in her head. She claps, "Kana, please make some cup noodles for yourself and him."

Kana stutters, "Wh-what—Mom, I just—"

"I would like to speak to him privately," Kana's mother says. "He's a very interesting boy. I know I've been keeping you from your studies, but there's something very important I'd like to tell him. I'll be gone by the time you get back."

"Mom, I just—"

"Kana," her mother says sternly, still somehow managing to pull off an austere tone with an earnest smile. "Please."

Kana shirks back and nods timidly, getting up from the _kotatsu_ and heading on downstairs. And I am stuck in the room with Kana's mother, who is standing up and moving over to the crib.

"Look at her," she says, peering in. I follow her gaze and I look.

I see a little creature with a round head, wearing a pink onesie. She is sleeping and she is curled up into herself, she doesn't notice me and it's good. It's good she doesn't notice me, she'd cry for her mother because there's a stranger looking at her. As she sleeps, she makes her mewling noises and my ears begin to hear them. They are soft and they are harmless and innocent and all those things people can't afford to be for very long in life.

When I see her...as though I am her father, I feel something instinctive, protective. Like who is in the crib is too innocent and pure to be destroyed by the horrors of the world and I need to defend her from it at all costs. It is strange and it is unsettling and I am afraid for both her and myself.

"She's beautiful," Kana's mother continues. "Her father was foolish enough to think otherwise, however." I turn to her, and she keeps talking all the while. "What did you hear about my daughter?"

I turn back to the crib and I mutter, "Rumors."

She eyes me and I dare not look back at her, the faint blurs of her in my peripheral vision chilling me all on their own. "What kind of rumors?"

"I'm not intending to date her," I tell her, finding it in myself to finally face her again. "I'm studying with her, so that she'd be able to better help her child."

"You'd better keep your word on that," she says sadly, her fingers stroking Masako's white cheeks and the pink fabric of her onesie. "The rumors started because she went after a boy the other girls had had their eyes on. The rumors got worse when he left her behind. For a few days, she'd just scream in the night. Partly out of anger, mostly because she hated herself that much. Then after those few days, she stopped. Since then, she hasn't cried once. The way she asked me and her father for help...neither of us could say no."

So I continue to look at Masako's sleeping face. I continue to hear her mewl and murmur to herself, shuffling in her bed. I begin to think about if she needs a blanket, a bottle of milk, maybe even a rattle. I think of books I could read to her before bedtime and I wonder how she'll think of snakes eating elephants and _perhaps she'll become an artist or a pilot_ —

—and at this point I wonder why I'm thinking like it's suddenly my job to keep her safe no matter the cost.

I decide to tell Kana's mother the whole truth when she gives me a look demanding I come clean with everything. "At first I didn't want to help. I don't like dealing with people in any capacity. You can say I'm like my father, in _that_ respect," I snort, smirking sardonically. "I recalled hearing about her in passing mention from my classmates. Things that sounded pretty...skeevy. So when she bowed to me, I had to know just what had been driving her to do such a thing. First thing that came off the top of my head was...," then I gesture to the little girl in the crib.

"When she told me she wanted to become a doctor," Kana's mother says, "I couldn't help but not want to support her every step of the way. As her mother and Masako's grandmother, I decided to dedicate the next quarter of my life to helping her achieve her dream. So I want to make this very clear."

She turns to me, I turn to her. Our expressions are passive, but we can feel how heavy the air between us is, and the sensation of my eyes locking with hers sent a thousand weights down my spine.

Kana's mother says, "She has little to no friends. Little to no time to enjoy herself. You can be her friend, or you can be her boyfriend. Whatever you wish. But if you do anything to harm her or my granddaughter, I'll hound you till you die."

I nod simply. No more words are necessary. But as I turn back to the crib, as I see how fragile Masako is and I begin to fully understand the weight of my decisions, Kana enters the room. Carrying a tray, on it three cup noodles.

"I told you to make one for yourself and for him," Kana's mother says, somewhat amused.

Kana says, "Thought you'd like one regardless...," breathing resignedly.

"Alright. Waste not, want not."

Kana's mother takes the middle cup of noodles before exiting the room, eyeing both of us before whispering something into Kana's ear. Kana nearly drops the tray as her face reddens like a tomato and she stares at her mother like the woman's transformed into a demon right before her eyes.

"Good luck with your studies," Kana's mother says, winking to me and all at once I feel something like discomfort crawling in my guts.

* * *

The ensuing awkward silence between Kana and myself is exactly one of the things I hate most about interacting with people. You say something strange, or they say something strange, or something strange just _happens_ completely out of your control, and all of a sudden the conversation grinds to a halt and the parties involved act like they're meeting each other for the very first time.

Kana and I just slurp away at our cup noodles, waiting for the other person to say something about what just happened and I'm too shy and she's too embarrassed and Masako is still asleep and we don't have much time left before evening hits and I have to head home because of my curfew.

So I start the conversation. "Your mother's a nice lady."

In the worst possible way. Akira you stupid moron foolish knave your mother taught you better than this—

"I'm sorry," Kana says, refusing to look at me. "I didn't think she'd be back so soon..."

"It's fine," I tell her, but like her mother, she doesn't seem to want to listen.

"I-I know, you don't like people, I'm sorry for the interruptions, I'm sorry for all these delays, I'm just—"

"It's okay, really, I—"

"—a-and I'm sorry that the conversation got to your dad and—"

And we just catch each other's statements and we are both caught on another deadlock. But I only allow this new silence to last a mere few seconds. "I'm not fond of my father," I say simply. "I don't hate him, but to say I _love_ him would be a stretch. I'm fine making conversation about the divorce. It doesn't hurt anymore. It happened a long time ago. To get upset over it _now_ would be folly."

"Still...I just...sorry if we got into some uncomfortable areas...we should've been studying," she says dejectedly, glaring passive-aggressively into her plastic bowl.

"We haven't even gotten into biology much," I chuckle, actually amused at how much time's been half-wasted. "Wonder how math and history are gonna go..."

"Wait, what?"

"Next _next_ week, we've got a long exam on math and a thirty-item quiz on physics, taking place on Monday and Wednesday respectively."

Kana keels over and plants her head on the desk, groaning out a noise that can only be replicated by the most anguished and bereaved of lost souls.

"Meaning I'll have to come again tomorrow," I say.

Kana pauses. Shuffling her head up, she stares at me. "You're still willing to help me."

"Yes."

She blinks. "Why?"

I shrug. "I like your place. It's very...comfortable."

She blinks again. "I...thought you'd have just decided to leave..."

"I'm asocial, not _anti_ -social," I say. "I'd like to help you out a little more. It's...more interesting than I thought it'd be."

"But why," she says, sitting back up and folding her arms as she purses her lips and glares. "Is it because of Masako, or you just genuinely want to help?"

I raise my brow, thinking of an answer for a couple of seconds before settling with, "Little of both."

She blinks a third time. Her shoulders deflate and she keels over once more, planting her head back down on the table. "I think I can live with that."

I slurp down a large set of noodles as I decide to act smug for once and say, "You're welcome."

* * *

 **author's notes:**

Thanks to all who've reviewed the story thus far! Just a quick note, this prologue will take a _lot_ of chapters-roughly estimating around eleven or so. Possibly ten. I'd like to go real deep into why this rendition of Akira ends up the way the description says he will. Hope you guys' patience continues to last till the end of this prologue!  
(and sorry if the story sucks and is boring so far, but from what i've got planned, it'll escalate soon enough)

 **Edit: Removed a single line of dialogue from Kana's mother that created a tiny plothole :P  
**


	4. Prologue, IV

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION IV -  
"Frighten? Why should any one be frightened by a hat?"**

* * *

Winter is drawing to a close.

I am waiting for her outside of the school gates and I wonder if she'll still wear that red scarf of hers even as the season shifts. I am waiting for her because we've got another study session ahead of us. History class. Long exam. Coverage is from Japan's early years to World War II and some current events here and there. Reviewing silently while standing alone in the melting snow is getting boring, because there are just so many times I can repeat scrolls of information about Fat Men, Little Boys, Hiroshimas and Nagasakis, and old anime based on the subject.

When she comes finally, she is out of breath and she is bent over. She is still wearing her red scarf even though it's not nearly as cold anymore. She wipes strands of hair from her face as she exhales one last time and declares, "S-sorry...if I...kept you...waiting..."

"Where were you?" I ask. "Didn't see you in class at all."

"Was...working...at...Big Bang...almost forgot we...had...to study...," she says as she struggles to form words.

I blink at her. Finding it strange how unseasonably warm I become upon seeing the black strands flowing over her freckles. I turn away before stammering, "L-let's go. We've got history to deal with."

"Good," she breathes. "My best subject."

"You just barely passed the last quiz," I say.

" _That_ was because you didn't tell me about it," she grunts, grinning.

"You were in class once Yamaguchi-sensei gave the quiz date," I say.

She gesticulates kind of exaggeratedly as she bites back, "I was sleeping! Why'd you not wake me up, anyway?"

I raise my brow as I plainly ask, "Because would it really matter if I did?"

"...gotta point there."

I then nod and make a welcoming gesture, allowing her to come to my side. She is still glaring at me, though she doesn't mean it, and we both take the long walk all the way to her dismal house just a few blocks away.

* * *

One year and six months into the past, winter is drawing to a close and she and I have been interacting rather frequently these past few months.

Very few times would we ever meet up in any fashion during school hours, and whenever we would we would talk about nothing at all. Just small talk that we'd both forget about immediately as the conversation would end. But when we would walk to her place, we'd always talk for hours before finding ourselves surprised at how quickly we seem to arrive at her place.

When we arrive this time, however, we continue our conversation even as we make strides to her room, where we spot Masako being tended to by her grandmother. Kana's mom nods at us and smiles as she bows and leaves the room, Kana and I taking our seats soon after. We continue talking as we unload our bags and get our books out along with stuff like pencils, erasers, pens, and correction tape and I grow mildly afraid that we won't be able to study at the rate our conversation is going.

Then we hear a shuffling noise. We turn our heads to the crib, where a black shape quickly pulls itself down. Kana and I blink before turning back to each other. Just as Kana faces me, the black shape rises again and I see it in my peripherals. Turn again. Shape bunkers down.

Kana chuckles as I raise my brow.

She holds her finger to her mouth as she smiles and I breathe in response. We both turn to the crib and keep our eyes on it for as long as we can. Soon enough, we see the head of a little girl pop up from inside the crib. Her small fingers are grasping the wooden frame and she is staring at us with large brown eyes. She blinks at us, and we blink back at her. She makes a little _Mmnnn_ sound before retreating back into the crib.

Kana smiles at me, getting up from the _kotatsu_ and walking over to the crib.

She says a few things to the innocent little soul in the crib and after a few seconds, she returns to the _kotatsu_ with a little girl in a onesie in her arms. She lowers Masako, having her sit in her lap as she asks me, "Is it okay with you if Masako stays here? She's quiet and not very active, so she won't do much."

I nodded simply, "If her presence helps you study harder, then by all means."

She smiles again, "Thank you."

"Now then...," I say, bringing out an exorbitantly large history book _thrice_ the size of the ones assigned to us at school, _slamming_ it onto the _kotatsu_. "Let us begin."

Masako just tilts her head as Kana asks, "This isn't the book Yamaguchi-sensei assigned..."

"This is the book I've used to get hundreds in _every_ history exam I've had thus far. Because Yamaguchi likes to make us write essays, it's only logical we take cues from an essay-laden book. I only pull this one out in extreme measures, though."

She scoffs, "Well. I guess I _am_ an extreme measure...you sure this'll help us out better than just reading the normal book?"

"Why did the _blitzkrieg_ tactic fail?" I ask her.

"What?"

"Why'd _blitzkrieg_ fail for the Germans, after it was done successfully in the early stages of Wehrmacht's invasion upon the Soviet Union?"

She smirks as she says, "Because in the end, the Russians adapted while the Germans did not. Hitler was so accustomed to the _blitzkrieg_ that when it was used in Stalingrad and at Kursk against the Russians, it largely caught the army off-guard because there were circumstances that the Germans weren't able to overcome, primarily because a blitz wasn't designed for the urban warfare at Stalingrad and at Kursk the Russians had already made a prepared defense against them." She then nods, half to herself as Masako opens her mouth. "See? I can be smart, too."

I then say, "The _blitzkrieg_ _did_ work at first, largely due to multiple advantages the Germans had over the Russians. Stalin had eliminated many capable generals during his Great Purge, leaving Russia's Red Army without a leader against Hitler's troops. Stalin himself was so convinced Hitler would not rebel against him that even though it was plain as day that the Nazis were advancing their efforts, he rejected the notion that Hitler's ambition would be so great. Plus, environmentally speaking, Byelorussia and Ukraine were perfect locations for Germanic war vehicles to traverse across because they were flat plains. And we're not even getting into the _actual_ planes of the Germans, which utterly slaughtered Soviet air forces and ground forces."

At that, Kana grabs her own history book and flits the pages over and over again as Masako eyes the sheets of paper passing by right before her large round eyes.

"But Russia eventually struck back. Harsh weather conditions and other factors like a Resistance caused the Russians' forces to decay gradually, the Germans having not planned for an extended campaign. Eventually Russians even adopted the doctrines of the Germans to the point where the former surpassed the latter in terms of resiliency, weaponry, and intel gathering. Stalin also relegated his command to his generals while Hitler decided to be stupid and man his troops' movements himself. In the end, Russia also just had a lot more reserves, so they could withstand a lot of what the Germans had to throw at them."

Kana was just looking at me intently, not even taking a peek at her book anymore. Masako looked up at her from her lap.

"In the end though, you were correct. The Russians adapted. The Germans did not."

Kana stared at the thick history book I'd placed on the table, then back to me. Then back to the book, back to me. Book, me. Her shoulders deflate as she pulls herself backwards and slams her upper body to the floor, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. "Okay. Let's read the book."

"One of the best things about this book," I tell her, "is that there're pictures and sketch renderings of many events listed. So it helps you remember stuff a little better if you take the time to associate a word or a phrase or an entire name with an image or a part of an image that strikes you."

Kana doesn't budge from her spot as she lies helplessly with her back on the floor and her eyes on the ceiling. Masako stares at her, still sitting on her waist. Kana's daughter then turns, shifting her position to face her mother, crawling over up till she's sitting down Kana's stomach. Kana looks at Masako as Masako looms over her. Kana blinks, smiling again, "What...?"

Masako's hand lands hard on Kana's cheek. Though Kana is more amused than anything else. She lifts Masako up as she herself rises from the floor, sitting herself back upright, "Okay, I get the point." Masako sits back in her mother's lap, staring at the both of us curiously as Kana says, "So...you ready to make me feel like an idiot again?"

I smirk, "Always."

* * *

Kana and I actually agreed days ago to study overnight, on her proposal. She needed help, I could use a good refresher run, and all the while we'd watch over Masako.

I would leave by Saturday afternoon. I assured my father prior to this day that it was all for the purpose of studying, to which he _kind of_ seemed to approve of, especially since he heard I would be with someone. I guess he's been waiting for me to interact with others for some time, I don't know. It worked largely, however, because I left out the teensy little detail that I would be doing this with a girl.

I am to sleep on the couch downstairs and I am fine with that. Though Kana did seem a little...iffy with that idea, for some reason. The only other option was to have us both sleep in the same room, and that's obviously not what she'd want.

Obviously. But. I'm. I'm getting a little off track here. The point is now it is 9:00 PM and Kana and I are _supposed_ to be studying well into the evening but that is not the case.

Because Kana herself is asleep, now.

I just went out a little while ago to the restroom and the moment I came back, I saw her with her head rested on the _kotatsu_ and Masako just sitting next to her, tapping her body with her small open palm.

I am sitting on the opposite end of the _kotatsu_ , watching Kana sleep. My hand is cupping my chin and my elbow is on the table and I am both bored and amused somehow. I don't much like the idea of wasting my time, but something about Kana sleeping so _plainly_ right in front of me kind of sort of makes me feel as though I'm _not_ wasting it at all.

Maybe it's the way her black hair splays about all over the table yet still looks so uniform, like a blotch of black paint over a brown canvas. Maybe it's the way the hair strands hover so neatly over her face without ever touching it or obscuring it too much. Maybe it's the way her closed eyes look so peaceful despite how the lower half of her face is buried in the red of her scarf.

Or maybe I'm just some creep who likes seeing women sleeping right before him. I don't know.

I then notice someone to my left. A little person in her pink clothes, staring at me inquisitively as she stands on her own two stubby little feet.

I ask her, "What is it?"

She tilts her head. I blink, staring back at her and shifting my whole body to face her. She doesn't budge. She turns her head away from me, biting two of her fingers, before turning back and letting her hand fall back to her side.

I do not know how to proceed.

I don't like dealing with children. Not because there's anything necessarily wrong with children as they are. I just don't know what to say to them. Especially infants. They're cute and they're cuddly, but you can't really engage in conversation with one. I might as well try anyway, though. If for nothing else, to both exhaust Masako into sleep and pass the time till Kana would awaken for us to get back to studying.

Thought of what to say, wondered what to do. Then remembered a book I brought along with me, in my bag. One that I considered handing over to Kana tomorrow, one that she'd read to Masako as a bedtime story. But now that it is 9:00 and it _should be_ Masako's bedtime, I think it's high time the book sees the light of...Kana's bedroom.

So I reach into my bag and pull out the book and turn to the little girl, "This is—"

Aaaand Masako is gone. The door is open. The door to the lower floors. And I hear a rough _bumping_ set of noises as I scramble out the door and I am afraid and I am terrified oh my goodness no please nothing bad happen what what what what—

Masako is at the bottom of the stairs. The bumping noises were just her steps as she rushed down. I sigh, "M-Masako—"

She then runs out of my field of view as I pursue her.

I head down the stairs, not wanting the little girl to end up bumping into some wooden frame and injuring herself. Though the moment I stop by the first floor, I see her nowhere. The door to the outside is locked, so I don't have to worry about her leaving anytime soon. Considering it took her such a short amount of time to hide, she must be somewhere relatively closeby. Unless she's already changed positions by the time I've turned my head.

I think of where she could be. Hiding by the armchair to my right? In the little cupboard to my left? In the restroom? Or the most logical choice...right next to the staircase?

I turn.

There she is.

She giggles, and I sigh.

So an idea passes in my head. Masako needs to rest now. A two-year old can't stay up by 9:00. And I don't wanna _carry_ her to bed. I don't want to drop her or anything. I pretend to ponder what to do as I walk back up the stairs, keeping my head high to make sure Masako knows I'm not looking at her.

But the moment I take my first step, I see her gripping my pant leg. She is looking up at me with wide eyes. Her head is facing the ground however, and she doesn't make a sound as her soft grip tightens 'round the denim.

I smile at her, and she doesn't react. I open my hand to her, and after a few seconds of looking at it, she takes it.

We ascend the stairs slowly.

* * *

"This is my favorite book...," I say to Masako. "And you probably won't even understand a thing I say the moment I begin narrating."

Masako eyes me and the book and she is not very impressed by either sight. I don't blame her.

"It's about a pilot," I continue, then asking, "You know what that is?" even though I'm sure she won't understand me—but then she shakes her head as though responding in the negative. I blink, surprised. "W-well, it's a person that flies an airplane."

Masako blinks as she takes another look at the book in my hands and this time seems interested. _Seems_ being the key word.

"He meets up with a little prince whose home is on an asteroid," I tell her. "Asteroid B-612. The Little Prince and the Pilot walk across the land, and the Prince talks to the Pilot about his many journeys throughout the stars. But all the while, The Prince wonders about his lost love: a beautiful Rose he left behind on Asteroid B-612."

Masako is looking at me now, curious. As though asking me _without_ asking me why the Prince would leave his beloved Rose behind.

"It was because he was too young to know how to love her," I say. "Her vanity pushed him away, and so he sought other things beyond his planet. Yet he discovered that nothing in the universe would be ever able to replace her, because she was his. And it is this realization that brings him to his knees."

Masako keeps staring at me. After a few seconds, she sits into my lap and keeps her eyes onto the book. She flips open the first page, but tilts her head because _of course_ , she wouldn't be able to read at this point. So I begin narrating.

"'Once when I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called _True Stories from Nature_ , about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.'"

When Kana sees the drawing, she presses herself into me, as though more than a little scared of the sight but trying to fight it off. It is incredible she's able to understand as much as she does.

I make my voice grand yet cautious as I continue, "'In the book it said: _Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion._ '"

She may not understand a word from _The Little Prince_ , but perhaps someday when she's like seventeen years old a brief flicker of a memory will be triggered in her brain and she'll suddenly find the urge to read about pilots and princes and asteroids. I continue talking and before we know it we manage to reach the point where the Pilot recounts his Drawing Number One.

The picture is that of a yellow pipe-ish creature with a rather large hump for a back. Masako looks at the picture curiously, not knowing what to make of it much.

I tell her of how the Pilot had expected the adults to have been shocked and horrified by what he'd drawn, "'But they answered: _Frighten? Why should any one be frightened by a hat?_ '"

Masako giggles again, smiling now, smiling like her mother. In Masako's smile, I see galaxies. In her closed, fluttering eyelids, I see stars flaring up into the black of space. In the little squeaky noises her mouth makes, I hear an innocence I don't want gone from this world.

It really is a shame that Kana is asleep, I think as I continue reading to Masako, continue reading to her about the Pilot's eventual journey into the desert. She is smiling as my voice fluctuates between bombastic and timid and I hope to give her the magic that no children's film can ever replicate: the magic of a grown-up reading a book to a small child, in the dark of the night.

* * *

 **author's notes:**

Honestly had a little trouble writing out Masako this chapter. But I knew she and Akira had to interact somewhere down the line, so I powered on through. The chapter was supposed to be just a _liiittle_ longer but this seemed like an appropriate length.

Thanks for sticking around with this story, please review and favorite and follow if you'd like and see you next time for when _things start to go down._

 ** _EDIT: Fixed a few misnamed characters here and there._**


	5. Prologue, V

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION V -  
"...because I _choose_ not to."  
**

* * *

Exams are over.

My classmates are chattering about what their plans are for spring break and the next school year and all I am doing is turning my head 'round and 'round, looking for Kana. Wanting to know how she's doing, now that the dragon has been defeated. Of course, she is exhausted after her climactic showdown, to the point where she is lying facedown on her desk and unmoving.

I am not surprised, though I am amused. I walk over to her with my bag in my hands and the moment I reach her desk she rises up and sees me. Smiling, she chuckles a little and I notice that she's still wearing that red scarf of hers, despite it being spring. Though I decide not to bring it up, because she looks rather nice with it on. It honestly feels as though the world would not be turning correctly if I am going to one day see her without the red draped over her shoulders.

"So," I say to her, grinning.

"I...think I did alright," she says, scratching at her head. "Though I can't be too sure. Math still destroyed me...I'm sure you did fine, though."

I take in a deep breath, "Biology was troublesome. Didn't expect three essay questions about Darwin and his discoveries. Also had a little trouble in algebra, all things considered; didn't review for it as much as I needed to. In the end, I can expect at least an average grade for both of them."

She smiles, "Well. I'm sure you'll get hundreds regardless."

"We'll see," I say. "I admit...I'm a little nervous. Pretty much winged it on the last Darwin essay. Not so sure if Tanaka-sensei would very much like what I've written. Lots of erasure marks and all."

"You? Nervous? The world must be coming to an end...," she chuckles.

"I'm only human," I tell her, as that is all I can say.

She raises her brow, her cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink, "You should come to the house again, during spring break. Read to Masako again."

"I already gave you the book. You've not read it to her yet?"

"I tried...she doesn't listen when I try reading it to her, though. She always just wanders off and does her own thing. With you, she actually sits down and pays attention. You made it two chapters with her last time, and I only went as far as a sentence. Guess I'm just not a very good storyteller..."

"If I keep on reading it to her, she'll become too accustomed to me. You've still got a chance to let her get used to you."

"Maybe...," she trails off, before turning back to me. "But back to the point. Come to the house again, and soon. U-unless you'd be okay with..."

"With what?" I ask, her face practically blazing red.

She lowers her head into her scarf as she says, "With...," then she keeps herself silent for a little while longer before letting out a grunting noise, and she tears her head up from her table, "w-would you be interested in coming to the Big Bang Burger store in Ginza?"

"Is that the one you work at?" I ask.

Sheepishly, she nods. "Y-yeah...I'll be working on Saturday, but my boss is allowing me some free time by noon this weekend, so...we can just...," she stares into her table, like she can't look at me for some reason, "we can just hang out around the place, then..."

"Who'll take care of Masako?"

"Mom does when I'm out, remember?" she asks. "So...will you be free then?"

I think about it for a little while. Wondering if there's anything I've got planned. But then I see Kana's face blistering red, her freckles turning a deep crimson shade as I realize that I'd just _feel bad_ if I am to say no. So I'll just forget whatever I've got planned then. "Sure. I can make it."

For a second her eyes flutter and she smiles and she's now laughing as though she didn't expect me to say yes, but then just as immediately she clears her throat and she stutters, "G-good. Great. Alright, then. I'll...I'll see you then. Noon. Remember that."

I nod without even a hint of what had gotten into her, "Very well."

* * *

There is a charm to fast food restaurants that _rich people restaurants_ don't really have. Sure, you could always go for a Caesar's salad or a fine t-bone steak at some place with a French name, but there's something raw to sinking your teeth into a burger and trying to get all the sesame seeds out of your teeth with your tongue. There's something satisfying about sucking all the oils out of a french fry before mashing it to bits with your back teeth.

It's youthful and childish and my father _definitely_ isn't a big fan of it, but he doesn't know I'm in Big Bang Burger at the moment, about to hang out with a girl who is my friend.

A girl who is my friend. And nothing else.

"W-would you like me to take your order, sir?"

And this girl who is my friend is surprised that I've come about thirty minutes early.

I grin at her, "I'd like a cheeseburger. Nothing more, nothing less."

She is blinking at me and she is angry and embarrassed and stunned and for some reason I like the expression she's putting on. Her face is red because she's wearing a yellow shirt with a thigh-length brown skirt and a sailor's hat and I realize that it's the first time I'm seeing her without her scarf on. Though she looks incomplete without the scarf, I am impressed how she manages to pull off such a cheesy-looking uniform.

And it's nice to be able to see her lower jaw. It's soft.

She then lowers her head and whispers, her face blazing red again, "What are you doing here now thirty minutes early you weren't supposed to —"

"Thought it'd be interesting," I say, sipping a cup of water.

"Is that your excuse for everything?" she rushes out, sounding like she wants to throttle me here and now.

"Pretty much, yeah," I say. "What? I was supposed to've come here later, anyway. The only difference is you're wearing your uniform."

"Do you know how _embarrassing_ this thing is!?" she chatters, pinching the hem of her yellow shirt and looking at it as though it's an alien life form trying to absorb her into itself. "I hate yellow! I look like a mustard bottle! I was supposed to have changed by the time you arrived —!"

"You don't look half bad, you know."

She doesn't respond for a second. She turns her back to me, feeling her cheeks, then she turns back and stammers, "Y-you really think so...?"

Then there is another girl who comes in, someone who has orange hair (most likely dyed), and she is smiling rather strangely at the both of us. The moment I see her I pull the grey hood I've brought with me over my head and the girl with the orange hair heads over to Kana and taps her on the shoulder.

Kana is shocked at the girl's untimely arrival, dropping the notebook she's had with her since the moment she asked for my order. Kana stammers, "M-Mitsuko?"

The girl with the orange hair looks at me, and though her eyes are on me her body is facing Kana, and she asks, "Is this the guy?"

At that Kana burns red and she is stammering again and she tells this Mitsuko girl to can it for some reason, trying to keep her eyes away from mine and suddenly becoming all jittery and nervous.

Though I am amused at the sight of her floundering about, I am at the same time concerned. She is flustered, but at the same time perhaps I may have overstepped a few boundaries in coming here so early.

Kana shoves the girl in the backroom and I sit in my chair and I look at the clock. It is 11:45 AM.

Maybe I did step a little over the line. Caught her off-guard, at the place she works at. But she really does look good in yellow. She's always looked good, no mtter what she'd wear. But she's not just looks; she's devoted and she's determined and even though she used to be more'n a little irresponsible she's now trying to do something right. And I can respect that, really.

Perhaps she didn't deserve me coming in here all smug. Even though I didn't know she'd have reacted this way, having me see her in her uniform, I knew coming here would've jolted her to at least some degree. Even though I didn't expect her to have taken it as much as she did...perhaps it'd be best for me to apologize.

When she comes around, that is.

Though by the time she does come around, about thirty minutes later, I'm not amused or apologetic anymore.

"Thank you, sir, for participating in the Big Bang Challenge."

She is still wearing that yellow shirt and that sailor hat and that short brown skirt as she plops a gigantic burger down before my eyes. The burger is as large as a Volkswagen tire and it's got lettuces and tomatoes and an inordinate amount of patties filling the space between the upper and lower buns. Kana is smiling at me as she takes the sailor hat off and she makes her way to the back.

I smirk at the back of her head, as she just always finds a way to surprise me. So I get to digging into the massive burger, willing to accept my punishment and at the same time show her up.

* * *

Kana is sitting in the seat across from me and she is stunned, amazed, bewildered. She's wearing civilian clothes now; green hoodie, blue jeans, that same red scarf, and she isn't saying a word at the moment. I am wiping my mouth with a napkin as she just continues staring at me like I'm not even human in her eyes.

"You...you ate it..."

"Mm."

"All of it...before I could even change out of my uniform..."

"Pretty much."

"How...? Nobody who's ever come in here has even managed halfway through..."

"It's not very difficult, really," I say. "Patience. A wide mouth. Twenty chews per piece. All that...and I forgot to eat breakfast."

Kana blinks, burying her head again into her scarf. "You keep on finding ways to one-up me..."

"Why are you even wearing that scarf, in the first place?" I ask her. "It's spring."

She shrugs, "I like it. Masako likes seeing it on me. It looks good on me no matter what I wear. So...I just wear it."

"Don't you feel hot under it?"

She shakes her head, "Nah. I've adapted to it. It's a part of me now. It'd just...feel weird without it."

"Suppose that makes sense," I say. "Now, then. What've you got in mind for this little get-together of ours?"

"There're a lot of arcades around here. We could start from there, if you'd like."

I blink, "Didn't know you were into that kinda thing..."

"Mostly just stress relief," she says. "I'm a pro at Gun About."

"Frankly, never played around with arcade games. Just not my thing."

"What do you do for _fun..._?" she exclaims, practically bursting with disbelief.

"I read. Look up stuff on politics here and there. Watch TV every now and again. And that's about it. We've been over this, haven't we?"

"You're impossibly boring."

"Big tragedy. But I'm not averse to the idea of just horsing around in an arcade," I say, getting up from my seat. "Who knows? Might be fun."

"If it helps you broaden your horizons, then let us be off!" she says, rising from her own seat. "Maybe now you'll find something a little more interesting than books..."

"Nothing's more interesting than a good book," I tell her. "You ever read Orwell?"

"Who?" she asks as we walk out the door.

"Search up _1984_ , by George Orwell," I tell her as we calmly make our stride along the sidewalk. "You won't be disappointed."

* * *

She and I are playing this Gun About game she mentioned earlier and many people stop to look at us before returning to their business. Well, they'd look more at her than me, but you can't really blame them. She's not just pretty, she's also fantastic with a plastic pistol. We are firing at digital terrorists and it's easy to see why so many people play this game: because everything explodes. A single bullet being fired at the very edge of some guy's head sends his skull blowing open into pixellated blotches of red.

Though I am making wild gesticulations as I try to aim, she simply swivels her arms up and down and the bodies just fall. Falling, as though just to make her happy.

"This _1984_ thing," she says, blowing up somebody's waist to smithereens, "what's it about?"

"You ever hear of—"

"Left, bazooka guy."

"What—?"

She turns and an enemy I didn't even know was there is sent flying into the wall behind him. "Anyway, you were saying?"

I blink and mutter, " _Big Brother is Watching You_ , _thoughtcrime_ , _thought police_ , have you heard any of those terms?"

"Not really," she smiles. "But they sound troubling."

"Without giving much of the story away," I tell her, shoving in another magazine, "it's about a society that thrives on the control of thoughts. Dissent is not allowed in any capacity. Those in authority control you, control your thoughts, your ideas, your own _language_ to the point where the very idea of rebellion is something you can't even fathom. And you can't stop it in any capacity."

She fires a round _execution-style_ into another terrorist as she says, "That actually sounds terrifying."

"Right?" I ask. "Though I thought you'd come up with some quip about how current society is like that, or something."

"I never liked dystopian works," she says. "The idea that those in power are controlling the masses just doesn't sit right with me. I mean, I got pregnant 'cause of my own stupidity. I raised Kana 'cause I chose to. Everything I've endured thus far has been a result of my actions, and mine alone. Nobody's in control of me."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, who can say we have control over our own lives?" I ask her, firing at a sniper above us. "Every day we are faced by choices and events that can sometimes be so minuscule on paper but will have widespread ramifications in how we carry ourselves in the future. We make our choices based on our past experiences. Who can say that any single choice is purely our own, or simply a result of us acting based on past events?"

"People are forged by their pasts, no denying that," she says, actually looking at me now while she continues to fire at people's heads so effortlessly. "But there's always a choice involved. You can choose to do this based on your past experiences, or choose not to in a show of stubborn defiance. In the end, you're still the one in control."

And then there is an explosion. We turn to the screen. It says _**GAME OVER**_ and I speculate that it is because she or I fired at some propane tank somewhere in the corner by accident and blew us up.

She chuckles a little, before turning back to me. "People's actions aren't determined by those in power, they are determined by the people themselves. They alone are responsible for their own deeds, and their results. To take that away from them is monstrous, and whoever proposes to have that done to anyone deserves no respect from anyone."

I raise my brow at her, "You should be a politician."

She chuckles, "I should, huh?" all the while setting her gun in the plastic holster of the machine. "That kind of story gives me the creeps."

"Glad I managed to get at least that much of a reaction...," I reply, setting my own gun next to hers.

"I mean...the idea of something like your own thoughts being taken from you...," she shakes her head. "I don't even wanna think about it."

"Well," I shrug, "there _are_ ways that sort of thing could be used to society's advantage."

"What do you mean?" she grunts.

"You can't really deny that there are just some _bad people_ in the world. People who can't be fixed by being thrown in jail or rehab or whatever. People who can do cruel, unimaginable things just because they were bored or had nothing to do." I eye her carefully. "Would it be so wrong to remove those kinds of thoughts, from those kinds of people?"

She just shakes her head again. "You remove a person's capability to commit sin, you remove what makes them people, Akira."

"What if those people can barely be _considered_ people in the first place?" I ask her.

"People can change," she says, facing me with her whole body now. "On their own. The worst of us can become the best, as long as they decide to change for themselves. To decide that kind of thing for them, it's not right. Our thoughts, our ideas, our beliefs; they're all we have. And to unlearn or change them, that should be our own choices to make. Not someone else's, not anybody else's."

I consider for just a moment bringing up how she hounded me till I decided to accept her request to help her in her studies. But then I remember that I chose to help her. That I, at any time, could have just up and left her and Masako behind. But I didn't and I won't and I don't want to. Because I don't like the idea of leaving mothers and their children alone in their hour of need, because I don't like the idea of abandoning her, because I don't like the idea of not being with her.

And I don't know why I don't like that idea.

I don't know why I enjoyed myself when I shot terrorists with her. I don't know why I had fun, reading Masako _The Little Prince_. I don't know why she's willing to hang out with someone as impossibly boring as I am, either.

What compelled her to want to be with me now? What compelled me to want to stay? What compels me to want something more?

What kind of person is she?

She sighs, her thigh buzzing, "Hold on...got a new text."

"Sure, sure," I say to her.

She unlocks her phone and sees what's on her screen. Her eyes widen and she says not a thing. I squint at her, wondering what she's looking at to make her look so pale. Then my thoughts go to cold hard logic and all at once I am terrified.

I look at the text with her. It is from Kana's mother.

It is about Masako.

* * *

When we buy the medicine neither of us talk and neither of us want to talk. We barely even exchange glances the whole time as we storm through every aisle in search of this bottle of pills or that pack of sedatives. We also buy several bags of junk food and multiple cup ramen packs from the place because we know that what awaits us is a long series of days where we'll end up doing nothing but staring at a little person in a little bed.

The ensuing train ride, we are sitting next to each other. I am looking out the window, holding the plastic bag of medicines in my hand while she carries all the food she's gonna gorge herself on in the coming days. Her face is being buried into her scarf as she lowers her head till all I can see not obscured by red are her green eyes, shrouded mostly in the black of her hair. She doesn't budge an inch from her seat; her shoulders don't tremble, her eyes don't tear up, she doesn't just flat-out burst into unrelenting sobs, she's just sitting there, staring at the corrugated steel of the train floor like it wronged her in some way.

Kana tells me about how Masako was so sickly when she was born all the way back in Nagoya. Tells me about how Masako was once was treated by a doctor who would constantly demand her to stay longer hours in the hospital and in turn, demanded more money from her family. Kana speaks of how her mother and her father would work 'round the clock just to get enough money to take care of Masako but they would always just end up getting small bits of cash. Kana speaks of how the rumors started about her being _easy_ because she went after the wrong guy, and how the rumors kept on spreading around and she couldn't do a thing but take it.

She is not crying and she is not enraged as she continues vomiting out words, she is just tired. She is breathing heavily once she finishes her spiel, though, and immediately apologizes for dumping all of this on me, admits that she just needs someone to talk to, tells me that I can just go back home once we reach the next station and she says that knowing she actually wants me to keep on staying next to her, like this.

So I tell her, "I'll come with you, to the hospital."

Kana does not speak for a few moments.

But then she says, "Don't. I've already burdened you with enough as it is. So much of your time's been wasted on me already."

I scoff at her, "You're assuming you're actually burdening me with something."

"Akira," she grunts out, "you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

I eye her carefully. "What if I want to?"

"You do?"

"What if I do?"

"Are you just forcing yourself?" she asks.

"What are you saying?"

"I-I know you don't like wasting time, this isn't what you bargained for when I asked you to hang out, you don't have to—"

"What if I really, _really_ want to?"

She says something I don't really understand because she's whispering it so quietly but then she repeats herself— "You're not forcing yourself, are you sure?"

"Why would you think I am?" I ask her. " _Now_ , after everything that's happened with us?"

"I don't know, I don't know," she grunts. "I just I can never tell with you, you always have some sort of quip and you get all evasive when I ask why you're helping me and my family and you're _nice_ and I don't know if that niceness is real or not sometimes but I just I don't know, I don't know, I don't know a lot of things, I don't know when you're gonna leave—"

"Then I'll be as clear as possible: I am not going to leave you. Because I don't like the idea of leaving someone behind when the stakes are as high as they are with you. Because I like being with you, and I consider you a very good friend. Because in the end, I've already gotten myself into this with you and I don't want to leave it as it is. I am not going to leave you, because I _choose_ not to. Not because I am being forced to stay."

Kana doesn't say anything after that.

Our hands are just barely touching. Her pinky finger is on mine and both of us know it, yet neither of us are willing to do more than just let ourselves remain there, as we are. Neither of us are looking at each other now because we both also know that the moment we catch the whites of the other's eyes, we'll just unload everything and anything that comes off the top of our heads and by the end of it we'll just drown into the other.

We are the only ones in the train car and some horrible part of me, deep within me, is happy that I'm next to her, is happy that I've finally gotten to see her and be with her again, is happy that after all this time she depends on me. Then I remember Masako and I beat myself down.

I do not know what the thought of her is turning me into. I do not know how much of a monster I am going to become. I do not know what will come from any of this. All I can do is hope, and be there with her and for her whenever she'd need me.

Neither of us speak again, not until the train reaches the next station.


	6. Prologue, VI

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION VI -  
"You're the only one of yourself."**

* * *

Masako, thankfully, _just_ has a cold.

Apparently she gets these a lot, thanks to a still-underdeveloped immune system. But she's a fighter; doctor said she'd get better in about three or so days if she gets all the medicine she's been assigned at exactly the right number of hours away from each other. She's able to stand and laugh and look at us, so we're inclined to believe him. And all that drama Kana and I shared in that train car? That was just us overreacting.

But it wasn't unwarranted. After all, the very idea of Masako being sick is enough to get us both scared to the bone. In our fear we both just bought a bunch of medicines and junk foods on impulse, fearing the absolute worst from the vague text of _Masako's sick and needs to be brought to the hospital_. That got a good laugh out of Kana's mother.

But Kana and I haven't really spoken much since that little talk of ours in the train car, days ago. And perhaps we should. Every time my eyes meet hers, she averts her gaze. But every time I'm not looking at her, I can feel her eyes on the back of my head. What she could be thinking, I am unaware. Why this matters to me so much, I am unaware. But all I know is that I don't like the idea of not being able to talk to her again. Not when we're so close, not when we're taking care of the same child.

Not when I've got this unseasonable heat in my neck whenever she's near me, not when the sight of her hands stirs something in me that makes me want to hold them, not when the sight of anything red just blares the word _scarf_ in my head.

Not when I just want to be able to talk to her like a regular human being again.

But now is not the time. "Now, the Fox and the Prince cared for each other immensely."

Masako is reading the book intently, sitting right in my lap as I point to every important word and every important image. She is so taken by the sight of the book you'd never even think she's sick. The way her eyes move with the pages, the way her voice mewls every time she tries to repeat what I'm saying. She's an intelligent child and it'd be a waste if any sickness she gets will eventually stunt her growth.

It is raining outside. It is raining hard. But that's a good thing. This is the perfect atmosphere for reading a good book like this one.

"The Fox and the Prince didn't know each other at first," I tell her. "To the Fox, the Prince was just a little boy like a thousand other little boys. To the Prince, the Fox was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But now that the Prince has tamed the Fox, they need each other. To each other, they are unique in all the world."

Masako looks up at me before looking back at the book and nodding, as though affirming what I've just told her.

Kana is by the door and she is watching the scene unfold. She says nothing and does nothing but stand there with folded arms and an expression I can't read at all on her face.

"But now that the Prince has to leave, the Fox can't help but feel sad. As the Prince looks upon the many roses he's encountered throughout his journey, he realizes that in the end, they do not matter. Do you know why?"

Masako shakes her head, staring deeply into the paper.

"Because the Rose he'd left behind on Asteroid-B612 was his Rose," I say. "It is the time he wasted on her that makes her so precious to him. No other rose can fill in her place in his heart."

Masako tilts her head as she grips the sides of the book herself. Surprised for just a second, I decide to allow her to hold it as I continue reading to her.

"So now, that the Prince must leave, must see his Rose once more, the Fox gifts him with one secret, a very simple secret," and I point out the words to her as I read them aloud: " _I_ _t is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye._ "

Kana looks at the clock on the wall; only thirty minutes till Masako takes her next batch of medicines. Masako's reading the book and she doesn't look like she wants to put it down. Though she shouldn't be able to read much, her eyes go from one word to the next like mine do, her breathing calms like mine does when I read, her lips purse and she becomes a mouth-breather like I do when I'm engrossed in a good story.

I turn to Kana and immediately her face reddens as she buries herself into her scarf. I raise my brow at her, and she finds it in herself to look at me. I see the blood pooled in her cheeks and I can't help but think she looks even more beautiful than she normally does with a rosy glow to her face.

Masako keeps on reading.

It is still raining, raining very hard.

* * *

Masako, after taking her last batch of pills, is tucked away in the crib and sleeps the moment Kana lays her down. Kana doesn't look at me as she whispers, "Downstairs."

I nod shortly after, taking one last look at a sleeping Masako as Kana shuts the lights and gestures out the door. I leave the room with her, and we both take a quiet walk down to Kana's living room. Her face is red and I realize that mine is as well, because we're by each other's sides and that last conversation we had in the train took a little turn for the dramatic.

I am thinking about the implications of what I've said. Though I don't regret saying any of it, I can't help but feel as though that I've said too little. That there's so much more I could say and should say. But I don't know why I feel compelled to speak so many more words.

But when she sits down on the couch of her living room and she looks at me with those blazing yet exhausted green eyes of hers, when she lowers her head into her scarf but continues looking at me the way she does, when she leans in the cushion of her couch and drifts pieces of hair away from her face I begin to articulate just what I feel towards her and eventually the words come popping up in my brain.

And, like a switch has turned off my filter, I decide to say outright, "I think I like you."

Her eyes are wide but her breaths are still and she keeps her mouth shut. Her face reddens even more than it already has, and her hands grip at her skirt for a little before she lets go of the hem. She takes in a deep breath as she stammers for a little before coming out with a shaky, "Are you sure?"

I look at her again. Look down at her feet and work my way up to her face. I then purse my lips and nod, "I think I do."

"You can't be sure about that," she says. "Nobody's ever sure about that."

"Well," I put my hands on my hips. "I like hanging out with you. I like spending time with you. I am concerned with what happens to you and your family. I do not like the idea of seeing you sad. And..."

"And what?" she asks, my sudden silence alien to her.

I rub the back of my head as I sheepishly admit, "I'm not...opposed to the idea of us in a relationship."

She shakes her head and sighs, "It's not that simple, Akira."

"Of course I don't think it's simple," I say to her. "That's why I think what I feel is _—_ "

"You've spent barely any time with me outside of this house," she says. "We only hung out once, and even that was cut short 'cause of what happened with Masako. We spend time studying, and most of that time we spend horsing around, sure, but I _—I don't know if_ _—_ I don't know if that really even can _count_."

"Count as what?"

"Count as _—_ " she runs her hand through her hair, "what do you know about me? Like, what do I like, what do I dislike, what shows do I watch, what's my favorite color, do you even know any of those things?"

"I'd like to," I tell her. "We've not spoken about those things, but I'd like to, when we get to them. There's much about myself you don't know, either."

"Then why do you _like_ me?" she asks. "You're the richest person in Kishibaru, what do I have in comparison to you?"

"You are yourself, and that's fine with me," I say.

"That can't _be_ _—"_ she groans, "this isn't like, some story. This isn't some stupid love story, this isn't like _The Little Prince_ , _essential-invisible-eye_ nonsense, it's a stupid kid asking a smart kid to help her out with her life and dragging him into a mess of a life _—"_

"You're not stupid," I say to her. "And your life isn't a mess."

"It isn't!?" she suddenly exclaims, before breathing and lowering her tone. "Look at this. I live in a shack. I can barely help my family in financial situations 'cause I've had a kid, I make attendance in school by the skin of my teeth, I fail quizzes, I can't even study on my own, _I can't even read a book to my kid_ without someone else helping me and you don't think any of this is a mess? You don't think any of this is stupid in the slightest? You don't think I'm stupid? What do you even think will happen, you getting together with me?"

I don't look at her as I answer simply, "I don't know."

"See? You don't even know, and you're a genius..."

"Who can know, unless we give it a try?" I ask.

"Oh my—" she holds her head in her hands. "You can't be serious _—_ I have a kid, Akira. We can't _—I need to_ _—"_

"I hang at your place pretty much every week," I say. "I don't really have any friends to hang out with at school. You need an extra hand in taking care of Masako when the going gets tough. And I'm willing to help. I enjoy being with you, no matter the time or the place."

"But _—_ but _why_?" she asks. "I'm serious, I don't know what you could possibly see in any of this _—"_

"I'm not seeing _any of this_ , I'm seeing you."

"Well, what do you see _in me_?" she asks. "What's so special about me?"

I turn my back to her, putting my hands on my hips, and I say, "Forgive me for giving an incredibly boring answer, but I think it's because...you're good."

"What?" she asks flatly.

I turn back to her, "Let me explain. Please."

She blinks, then breathes, and says, "Sure, just...go ahead."

My shoulders deflate and I look her square in the eyes. "You know how people are."

"What about people?" she asks.

"The best and the worst thing about good people is that they don't exist," I say to her. "People are not good. People are not evil. There are people who do good things and people who do bad things. And it's so much easier to do the bad things than the good things. Many times, people do bad things because they believe they'll do something good, and in the end all they do is make the situation worse."

"What does this have to do with anything?" she asks. "Just because I do _good things_ , that's why you—?"

"I'm one of those people who do more bad things than good things," I say, to which she stops and lets me continue. "Before meeting you, I didn't care about a single thing that existed outside of myself. People had their own lives to live, and I had mine. I was okay with that, because what business did I have in other people's lives? After meeting you, though...I felt like I wanted to be better. Like I wanted to do better, be more than what I am. And I like that feeling, I like being with you, and I like _you_ because you want to do good for yourself, for your daughter, for your parents and that's—" my shoulders deflate as I solemnly say to her, "that's hard to find in anyone, these days."

"Not if you look for it," Kana says. "I'm no different from anyone else. I'm nothing special. There're a million other people in the world just like me, and they're all going through so much worse things than I am."

"But that's the point, none of them are like you," I say to her. "You're the only one of yourself."

"What are you saying?"

"There may be people like you, but they're not _you_. There's no one like you who can affect me as much as you do because I've been _with_ you. I've eaten food with you, I've studied with you, I've taken care of children with you, I've gone places with you I've never been to before and I don't want to go to those places with anyone else because I want to go to them _with you_. And I want to go to many other places, I want to do a lot of other things, I want to be more than just a friend to you because I just—I like you. And all those times we've shared, whether we're hanging out or studying or reading books to Masako, they can't be replicated by anyone else and I wouldn't treasure them the same way I do with you."

She buries her head into her scarf as she finds herself unable to say much more. She leans into her seat again, pressing herself further into the cushion, as she asks me, "I'm a curse. Why would you want to be with me?"

"A curse...?" I ask her.

"Never mind, I—" she stares at me and she stops speaking and she looks into her scarf again and she can't form words for just a little moment until she comes out with, "what would your father think?"

"Dad's wanted me to marry someone from another company, when I come of age. But after what happened with my mom, he admitted that while he'd prefer me to be in a business-related marriage, he's willing to let me choose my girlfriend for myself. I've not been wedded to anybody, I've not even had a girlfriend before; never been interested," face turns red, "'til now."

Kana asks then, "What about the people at school, what'll they think if they see you and me dating and hanging around each other and—?"

"If I cared about what they thought of me, I'd never have agreed to help you study," I say. She still doesn't look at me. She doesn't wanna say anything more. So I say the most hard-hitting thing of all. "You're not a burden." She's looking at me now, her eyes are sad. So I continue. "Not on anyone. You're not a burden."

"I'm not a good person," she says. "I'm not. I can't even read a book to my kid. I can't even be _there_ for her when she needs me to take care of her. I had her because I wanted to raise her and I can't even do that right. I still need my parents, I still need _you_ , I still need so many people and I know that all I'm doing is dragging them down in the dirt with me and I can't do anything else because I'm so useless and how can you _tell me_ I'm not a burden?"

"Because we chose to help you," I say to her. "You asked us, remember? And we accepted. Your parents agreed to help, _I_ agreed to help, and we could have all said no at any time but we kept at it because we cared about you and Masako. If you were a burden, I would have never decided to continue helping you study. I would never have accepted your invitation to hang out at Ginza. I would never have read Masako _The Little Prince_."

I then turn away from her. And I say, "You and Masako are special to me. You may not think you are to the world, but you are to me. I wouldn't trade either of you in for anyone else."

At that, I hear a chuckle. I turn back to her, and I see her wiping her eyes, continuing to make little bursts of laughter. "And you're telling me you've never had a girlfriend up until now?" she asks while furiously rubbing at mildly wet eyes.

I blush at her. Averting my gaze again. "Th-that could change, depending on if you...y'know..."

She chuckles again, her voice shaky as her nose clogs up and her eyes start to dry, "I think...I don't think...," I turn back to her as she removes her hands from her eyes, her red-green eyes that are tired and wet and still impossibly beautiful no matter what, "look, it's not you. You're a nice guy, you're smart, and you've been very helpful towards me and Masako. But I don't know if...I'm ready for that yet."

I look at her and for a moment I feel a little sad. Actually more than a little. But I let her continue.

"Masako's father...he and I had a real bad breakup. I don't feel anything towards him, not anymore, but...I don't think...I don't know if I can handle another relationship right now. That aside, you're not a bad guy to be with...but...I think it'd be best if...I had more time."

"Alright," I say. "That's fair. Considering what you've been through..."

"Let me think about it a little more. You'll have your answer by...," she thinks for a little, "next week?"

"Take as long as you'd need to," is my reply. "Whatever your decision is, I'll abide by it."

"Thank your father."

"What—?"

"Huh—?"

There's a light _slap_ ping sound that's ringing out in the room and we turn to it; there's an envelope on the coffee table across from Kana's couch and looming over both myself and Kana is Kana's mother. Smiling at us both and for once it's not a sly smile nor a scary smile but it's a genuine warm _motherly_ smile that I haven't seen out of anyone in a long time.

Kana and I watch as Kana's mother leaves us both in the living room to our fates, as Kana herself grabs at the envelope and sees what's inside.

Two tickets to Destiny Land.

Kana's hand shakes as she rises up from the couch and calls out to her mother, "M-Mom, I—!"

"You like him, too," Kana's mother says, which makes both of our faces unabashedly red. "Do you really want him to be _just_ a friend?"

I turn to Kana. And she's not looking at me. She's looking at the tickets in her hand and she's buried her face in her scarf again. Kana's mother smiles again as she treads up the stairs.

Kana now looks at me as I purse my lips. We both turn away from each other almost immediately after, rubbing at the backs of our heads. It takes what feels like an eternity to meet each other's gaze again. Her face is scarlet and my face is blood-red and we're both nervous and flustered and we're so embarrassed we could die but we don't want to be anywhere other than by each other's side.

Kana stares at me, then turns to her tickets, then stares at me again. "Would you...?"

I nod, "Yes. I...I would like to, very much."

Her face for like the thousandth time today gets buried in red as she asks, "Are you...free this Friday?"

"It's summer, so..."

"R-right, I...yeah."

"I'll be free by then, no studying to do to pass the time anyway—"

"I think that's the best time considering my parents'll be home that day—"

And we shut up because we're talking over each other and then she chuckles at how stupid we're acting.

Unable to bear this any longer I gather my bag and rush to the door, exclaiming, "I-I'll see you Friday!"

"You too!" Kana cries out in something like joy.

And I leave her house. And I feel like I'm on cloud nine.

* * *

Even though it is raining and it is raining very hard and I just don't care anymore because I'm hanging out with Kana Kohaku this Friday and she looks and acts and talks like she actually is not opposed to the idea of being with me, to the idea of being in a relationship with me, to the idea that she and I could be something together and the world and everyone in it doesn't matter in the slightest.

Joy. When has it been since I've last felt joy. When in this nothing life of mine have I sincerely felt good at interacting with another human being. When in this non-existence of mine have I ever felt as good as I do now? I wanna buy things for her, wanna eat cotton candy, win games, go on ferris wheels and amusement park rides, I wanna go out there in the world with her and experience everything, the rain on our hands, the wind in our hair, the sun hitting our faces, the _everything_ this incredible planet has to offer and I don't ever ever wanna stop.

And I can't help, as I march along the sidewalk without a care in the world that I don't have an umbrella, but _sing_.

"I'm _singin_ ' in the rain, just _singin_ ' in the rain; what a glorious feel, and I'm happy again! I'm laughing at clouds so dark up above, the sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love," I then grab a nearby lamppost and reenact that scene in the movie where Gene Kelly hangs by it while supporting himself on the base as the rain continues to pour, "Let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place, come on with the rain, I've a smile on my face! I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain, singin', singin' in the _rain_ —!"

Then my phone buzzes.

Then I get down from the lamppost. I open my phone, fearing it's my father, fearing it's Kana, fearing what kind of message would this be and hoping it won't destroy anything that's happened this delightful evening.

Instead I get the opposite, Kana having written out a text saying _See You On Friday. :)_ and I can't help but smile, in the pouring rain. I can't help but wait for the next three days to be over. I can't help but for once in my life to be happy.

And I can't help but notice the little red icon that's popped up at the bottom of my phone. The icon that looks like an app. An app I do not recognize. I click on it to see what its name is, and I'm greeted with two words that just sound incredibly strange when paired up together:

 _Metaverse Navigator_

I try dragging the icon into the trash bin of my phone, figuring it's nothing at all but some app I got over my various ventures on the internet. But it won't react to my fingertips. It doesn't budge. Other icons do, other apps get deleted when I drag them to the bin, but not this one. This one doesn't move. Like it doesn't want to.

So I decide to leave it for another day. I think about Kana. I think about what we'll do this Friday, I think about how amazing it'll be for the both of us, and I hope that in the end she'll just say _Yes_.

Not knowing that the bomb will drop soon. And very soon.


	7. Prologue, VII

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

 **\- SECTION VII -  
"It didn't, it was like a dream...it was like...almost like I was somewhere else..."**

* * *

My father, Soichiro Kanzaki...he can be called a ruthless man. A persuasive man and a convincing speaker, he is also very strategic and reasonable, thinking up of the best gambits and the best plans to make the company _work_.

However, several businesses have gone bankrupt because of his exploits, and many employees have found themselves forced out of their jobs just because he considered them rather unpleasant. My father won the custody battle against my mother with the help of some tall men in suits who would never speak a word to anyone who wasn't him.

He is the head of _conglomerates_ worth of businesses. He has already won multiple deals against impossible odds because he's just _that_ good at negotiation. Yes, Soichiro Kanzaki is a ruthless man, bound only by a desire to drive the Kanzaki Corporation to further successes. My respect for him is immense, and I seek to emulate him in nearly everything I do because of that.

But do I love him? Hard to say. He is my father, but to say I _love_ him? Would be a bit of a stretch to say I do. We do not interact often. He and I don't exactly go out fishing together or riding bikes or doing father-son bonding activities. I don't even really recall the last time we've watched a movie together (though I'm sure we have; I don't even remember the movie, though).

So our relationship's what it is. Which is why it's so weird to me to hear him ask:

"It's a girl, isn't it?"

"Wh-what?"

I turn. I'm halfway out the door by the time he asks me. He's leaning on the wall behind him as his brow is raised and his chin stiffens. He towers over me, as he does. His hair is black and slicked clean, even when he's wearing casual attire. Said _casual attire_ being a black short-sleeved shirt and dark grey sweatpants. "She's the reason you've been going out more."

For a moment I consider lying to him, but one look in his eyes tells me how stupid of a plan that is. "Yes. She is."

"Why tell me you've joined a club, then?" asks Father. "I wouldn't have minded you getting a girlfriend."

"I wasn't sure how you'd have reacted," I say to him, leaving out the convenient detail that she has a child because how do you think he'll react to that.

"Well, I told you that your girlfriend is your business," Father says to me, actually drawing closer and looming over me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I don't recall the last time he's done this. "All I want you to do is choose your partner carefully. I don't want your relationship to end up how mine did with your mother."

"I think she's different," I say to him. "This girl I'm with...she's special, Dad. Her name's Kana Kohaku."

I shirk away from him, fearful of what he would have to say. Thus letting him speak.

"Honestly I considered confronting you on this matter sooner, before things would get too out of control. But I didn't, because the way you smile these days is something I haven't seen out of you in a long time. Now that you're dressing up to look the closest you can to _good_...," he mutters, sizing me up, "I'm inclined to think things have gotten more than a little serious. For your own sake, I have to ask: are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," I answer immediately. "I do not want to be without her."

"Because I had a very interesting talk the other day with an old friend of mine," he suddenly says. "from back in my high school. Chiaki Kohaku." Oh no. "I once offered her several jobs for the corporation, but she rejected them all because of timing issues. You see, her daughter _Kana_ has a child. And since Kana has to attend school every day, Chiaki needs to stay at home often to compensate for her husband and her daughter."

And he keeps his eyes on me. And I avert my gaze. And I'm scared and I'm shaken and I bash myself in the head because I'm stupid I'm stupid I'm stupid I didn't think through this at all I didn't even consider my father in this whole mess and now I'm dead and now Kana and I can't be together and it's all so messed up.

But all he says at the moment is, "You will face many hardships in the future."

After a long silence, I reply with a "Yes."

"Have you given thought to taking care of her child, in the long term?"

"Yes."

"Have you taken the future of the Kanzaki Corporation into consideration?"

"Yes. I am still willing to fulfill my role as the heir to the company."

"Have you thought about marrying her?"

My face burns red again as I say, "Yes."

He stares into my eyes intently as he lets out a sigh. "If I can be brutally honest with you, I do not think this relationship will work. It is not impossible for a rich man to court and marry a poor woman, but it is rife with hardship. This girl _will_ be branded a gold digger, even if she really is not. Opportunities to strengthen the corporation through arranged marriage will be tossed aside. It will be a long, hard road for you both. It will be even longer and harder, with the fact that she has a child."

"You're...you're willing to let me have this?" I ask him.

"On _one_ condition," he says. "After tonight, I have to see her for myself. Normally I wouldn't intrude on such matters. But this is no normal circumstance, is it?"

"You made a promise," I say, more than a little sadly.

"A baby tends to complicate things like promises, Akira," he says. "If I find I do not approve of this girl, you must not allow your relationship with her to progress any further."

I stammer out in my fear and unrelenting sadness at the thought of what would happen if she and I were to be taken away from each other so soon, "Father, you don't understand, she and I have already—"

"Akira, many businessmen don't even give their children the chance to choose who they marry," he says. "I want you to be happy, really I do. A relationship with someone you genuinely love can give you things money can't buy. But you have your studies to think about, you have your future to think about, you have a company to think about. If I do not see for myself what you've gotten yourself into, it would be irresponsible of me. You kept this hidden from me for months and I let it go on because I knew you were happy with this, even though all the while I hoped things wouldn't progress as far as they have. It is only fair that I get to know her."

I turn away from him. My head to the ground. And I can't help but admit, "Yes. That is only fair."

He nods, "Glad you agree."

Then he turns away from me. And I stand there. And I am scared again. I then turn to the door...and I hope that when Kana and I meet, the rest of the day will turn out fine. That my father will approve of her, that she and I could continue our relationship, that perhaps she and I could marry at some point I don't know I don't know I don't know.

I just don't want to be without her.

But the bomb will drop tonight.

* * *

I am staring at my hands. They are shaky and they are pale and they _hurt so much_ and they've got red on them and there's steel cuffed round my wrists, the chain locked to a pole in the center of the table. My shirt, my white shirt with blue short sleeves, it's stained red as well. Why? What's happened to me? My head hurts and my hands hurt and my heart's beginning to race. Why am I here?

The room is a dark gun-metal grey and there is a reflective window to my right. I am in a police station. What am I doing here? I can't remember. What was I doing last? Studying? No. Not studying, it's summer, why would I be studying in summer? There's something I should be doing. What day is it today? A Friday? Saturday? No, Friday. Friday. No other day.

What am I supposed to be doing on Friday? I shouldn't be here, I should be somewhere else. Why can't I remember where to go? No. I remember now. Kana. Me. Destiny Land. She and I. Together, hanging out like we're supposed to. Like we're friends, like we're more. What am I doing here?

I should be on a ferris wheel with her. I should be eating cotton candy with her. I should be doing all sorts of amazing things. Why am I not with her? Where is she? I am scared. I do not know what to do or where to go or what's become of her _why is there blood on my hands and my clothes_ —

A door opens. I try forcing my hands up to no avail. Cuffs are tight because of course they are, what are you thinking trying to get out of them through force alone, and a man sits down across from me. The man has brown hair that cascades down to his shoulders and dark brown eyes that glow in the dim lighting of the interrogation room and he looks about my age. He is wearing a brown overcoat of sorts and with a black-gloved hand he places a file right in front of me as he moves in closer.

"Please calm down," he says. "Acting all rabid won't help your chances."

"Why am I here...?" I ask him. "What am I doing here?"

"You don't know?" he asks, incredulous. He leans a bit closer. "Or...you don't remember?"

"Remember what...?"

"It'd make sense," he murmurs to himself, "the officers responsible for your arrest said you required an...inordinate amount of force to apprehend you..."

"What happened, what did I do?" I ask him. "Please. Tell me. What did I do...?"

He looks at me intently, exhaling in something like pity, "So you really don't remember." I shake my head, to which he leans back in his seat. "Very well; allow me to introduce myself first. My name is Goro Akechi. I'm a detective. And you are Akira Kanzaki, son of Soichiro Kanzaki and heir to the Kanzaki Corporation."

" _What happened_?" I suddenly cut in, wanting to skip all the pleasantries and get down to brass tacks. " _Why am I here_? Where's Kana?"

"Kana Kohaku is in this station," says Akechi, his tone cautious yet . "She's...very anxious. But she may help get you out of this yet. She's a very key witness." I stare at him, declaring silently for the very last time that _I don't know what he's trying to tell me_ and he gives that piteous exhale once again, his shoulders lowering as he solemnly tells me, "You killed a man."

"I _what_...?" I ask him, half-laughing in my disbelief. But then I look at the red on me and I stop laughing.

"Is this swiss army knife yours?" Akechi asks, pulling out a photograph from the folder he brought along with him. There is a red swiss army knife that's coated in something that looks like paint but isn't and he says, "Please answer the question."

My jaw hangs for a little as I stammer out, "Y-yes, my, my father gave it to me, told me to...to keep it if I ever needed to...to defend myself..."

"Can you recall anything from what happened?" asks Akechi. "It was just a few hours ago. Please. For your own good, you need to tell me what happened."

"My own good...?" I stammer out in a voice that's no louder than a whisper.

"What happened? How did things come to this?" is all he asks.

"I...I don't...," I mutter as I clutch my head. "I don't remember, it's, it's all a blur, I don't know, I don't know...what did I even...?"

Akechi then says, "You have a chance at getting off on justifiable homicide, but the man you killed was a very influential politician. You've made a lot of enemies tonight, and they're in very high places. If you're going to have even a chance at beating this, you need to get your side of the story straight first and foremost. Tell me your account of what happened."

"I...I was...getting ready for..."

"Ready for what?"

Red on my hands. Red on my hands. Red on my shirt. Bloodstains like food coloring. Red. Red. The color red. Scarf. Someone wearing a scarf, someone beautiful and impossible and someone I don't want to be without, "I was going to go on a date."

* * *

I am walking down the road and I am peaceful.

The night is young. Kana and I are going to head out to an amusement park and we are going to have a fun time. Hopefully. I am wearing the most casual clothes I've got and I'm hoping I look good without my glasses on. And as I am walking down the street I wonder what Kana will wear to our little get-together, wonder what rides we should get on first, what kind of games would be there, what food they would serve.

But then I hear a sound as I stop. I am supposed to meet up with Kana at her place and from there we're supposed to go to the station and ride the night away at Destiny Land like stupid hapless teenagers. I am on the correct street, though I am about ten minutes late. We were supposed to meet up at around 8:00 PM. Due to the talk I had with my father, I am...more than a little delayed. But I'm hoping she's still somewhere nearby, waiting for me.

By the time I arrive at the door to her house, I discover that she's not there. Which is odd. But then I get a text message on my phone immediately as I arrive at her place and I smile.

 _Are you at my place yet?_ she asks.

I text back, _I am. Where're u?_

To which she replies, _Sorry_ , _got a little bored waiting for you :P Headed to the Triple Seven just a block away to grab a drink, I'll_ _B back in a sec_

But she doesn't come back. I wait for her. I wait for around another ten minutes or so. And she doesn't come back. For a moment, I'm annoyed, but my annoyance quickly devolves into fear, and I text her.

 _Where r u?_

To which she doesn't reply for a very long time. But once that long time ends, she manages to come out with: _There's a man who won't stop following me_

And at that I grip my phone. I am running now and I am scared and I am terrified and there is no one in the street and it is strange that there is no one in the street because I remember after all the _red comes out_ people start coming out of the woodworks like ants—

* * *

"The victim was Masayoshi Shido," says Goro Akechi, unveiling a photograph from the folder he brought with him. "He was very popular among the people and had connections to several different organizations all over Japan. One of those organizations being the Kanzaki Corporation."

"Yes...yes, I am aware of him...my father spoke of him and I've heard his name in conversation...," I mutter in a rushed voice. And then my eyes widen, and I say, "A-and you're saying I _killed_ him...?"

He looks at me, his own eyes wide now, and he purses his lips as he says, "Do you know why your mouth is bloody?"

I lift my hand to my mouth and I realize it is wet and I'm tasting iron. My tongue and my teeth are drenched in dried blood and I don't know why and I am scared again. I am wondering how this could be and I am shaking again and I can't help it anymore _I have to know_ "What did I do to him?"

He cringes, "Do you really want to know...?"

"What did I do?" I ask, my hands shaking and aching and throbbing. "Please, I...I need to...what did I do...?"

He folds his arms and closes his eyes, somberly coming out with, "Your hands hurt, don't they? Meaning you gave the kind of punches you don't think about before you throw. There are bite marks on Shido's face, specifically his right cheek, and the bites were strong enough to tear out large portions of skin. And the side of his head...," he shakes his own head as he says, "I don't think I should say any more than what I have already."

I look at my thumbs and I see how red they are. I feel my teeth with my tongue and some of them feel loose and worn. My hands blast pain to my arms every time I try to curl up my fingers. "I...did that...?"

"And judging by how you don't remember it at all...I'd say you were in a fugue state," he says. "Assuming you're telling the truth, that is." I look up at him, horrified at what he just said, but he continues on, "I know how cruel that must sound and how terrifying this must be. With what you've told me, you _may_ be sent to a psychiatric ward and at worst, you'll probably do time in juvie. So you have to keep on remembering. Shido's position in government was...high. Apparently, he was planning to run for prime minister. To many businessmen and many politicians both in and out of Japan, Shido was a gateway. You need to know how high the stakes are."

What have I done. What have I done. This is all happening so fast and I don't know how to stop it. Father. Kana. Masako. What can I do? Am I dreaming? Is this all just some nightmare? This can't be. I can't be a murderer. I haven't even thrown a single punch my entire life, how could I kill _any_ body, let alone a politician? This makes no sense at all. But I close my eyes regardless, I think back to just earlier in the evening, hoping to recall just what I did to this Masayoshi Shido person and wanting to believe my own innocence.

"Oh no," I say to Akechi. "I remember."

"You do...?" Akechi asks. "Please, do your best to recall. It may be difficult, but it's necessary."

"I...I...was walking down the road, I was supposed to meet with a friend, we were, we were going to Destiny Land together and I and then—and then I saw _him_."

* * *

I see him when I reach Triple Seven and he's around a half-a-block away from the store and there is no one on the road.

He's growling things at Kana and she's trying to get away from him, he's laughing and snickering and he's shambling like he's drunk but he's still tall and strong and clearly not in his right mind. He's bald and he's wearing orange-tinted glasses and a black coat and black pants and a white shirt and he's saying all sorts of things to Kana, whispering in her ear.

I am running to Kana and I see the man and I need him to get off of her, he can't be anywhere near her, he's not supposed to do this to her, Kana's begging for help, Kana's screaming now but no one is there, no one is there but me and she's getting hurt—she's aggravated at the man and she's trying to push him off of her, away from her, but he won't listen now he's grabbing her by her wrists and he's pushing her into an alleyway and she's screaming and screaming and begging for help as she's kicking and doing all she can to get away from his grip—

—and before I know it I hear the man screaming. I am in the alleyway with him and Kana and my hands are throbbing. Red is running down the side of his face as he's screaming madly and painfully and horrifically. My hands are covered in blood and I'm grabbing Kana by her own hand and pulling her out of the alleyway as the man shambles out. He's gripping at the sides of the walls and he's looking at me and Kana and the way he's looking you wouldn't think he's drunk because not even drunk people could fill as much _hate_ in their eyes as he does.

He's calling us brats and he's proclaiming how he'll sue, I get in front of Kana and thrust my arm out to guard her from the drunk man but the man slaps me aside. The force of the hit is enough to send me down and away from Kana and all I can think about is _why is no one helping why is nobody helping why is no one coming out of their houses to help us_ —

I think of grabbing my phone and doing the right thing and calling 110 to get the police over here as quickly as they can, so I dial the number and I call and I stammer and I tell them that _my girlfriend and I are being attacked_ but then I see the man grabbing Kana by the neck, grasping her in a chokehold as he slaps her once across her face, aggravated and enraged and screaming like a madman with bloodshot eyes—

* * *

"—and then the knife sinks into his neck and the neck is burst open and there's so much red flowing out because I must have hit the carotid artery and he's grabbing his neck and he's choking on his own blood trying to hold the wound shut as best as he can with both of his hands, he's looking at me and he looks like he wants to cry and I don't answer him at all and the sight of all the _red on him makes him look like a sculpture, a modern art piece to be adored by men and women and children from all over the world_ and something in me wants to improve upon it by putting his head against the railway of the road and—"

Goro Akechi looks at me. He is looking at me and he does not know what to say. His hand is shaking and his eyes are wide like saucers and he's trying so desperately to keep himself steady.

I then put a hand to my head as I finally fully realize, "I killed him. I...I killed him, I didn't even know. It didn't, it was like a dream...it was like...almost like I was somewhere else..."

"You have a chance at surviving court," Akechi says suddenly, nodding. "Don't worry."

"Huh...?" I ask him. "H-how...? Once info of this gets out..."

"Kana Kohaku and you were the only two people at the scene of the incident. By the time bystanders arrived on-scene and officers dropped by, Masayoshi Shido was already dead," Akechi replied, rising from his seat and moving over to me. Placing his own hand on my shoulder. "Like I said earlier, you're hopefully going to be let off on justifiable homicide. You and Kohaku both gave the same story, giving credence to your claim that you killed Shido to defend yourself and her."

"Kana, Kana where is she what's happened to her—?"

"She is fine," Akechi says, staring at me intently. "I told you already, she's in the station. You're panicking."

"He-he'd have raped her," I grunt out, my teeth grinding against each other at the mere mention of that word. "He was hitting her and he wouldn't stop, if I didn't do a thing he would have—I can't go to jail, she has a daughter, I can't leave her I can't leave her behind not after what—"

"You'll gain sympathy with the jury," Akechi then replies, his tone assuring and warm. "You were defending your friend from a sexual assault. If my hunch is right, your case will end up just like those who were let off. You must stay calm."

"I...I...," I stammer and I shake and I put my head in my hands. I do not want to look at him anymore.

Akechi says, "Your father and your lawyers will arrive shortly. My job here is done. In my eyes I see that you are innocent, despite the brutality you displayed. The jury will only find you guilty if they have no conscience." But as he puts his hands on the knob of the door, he says, "You won't leave her behind. You will see her again. That is a promise."

And he leaves me in my chair. Leaves me to myself.

And I realize something strange, something frightening, something horrific as I sit in my chair with my head in my hands and the smell of iron in the air of the room. I realize that my heart is not beating as quickly as it is out of _fear_. Something else.

I feel the skin of his cheek sink into my teeth again and the warm and tender flesh of man is something salty and sweet. I am clutching the swiss army knife in my hands and I'm ramming it into his neck and he's bleeding and it's glorious and I feel the warm splash of red hit my hand again. I watch as scum dies on the sidewalk with his skull split open and his neck gashed and red just pooling beneath his form.

What am I doing here? Why am I feeling this way? Should I feel this way? Should I feel bad for the man I've killed? Must I, really? He hurt Kana, nearly raped her in that alleyway and nobody would have stopped him if I had not come into the fray. We were surrounded by houses, people must have heard us. People must have heard, why didn't anyone come in to help us?

If I had not stopped him, he'd have had his way with Kana and nobody would have helped, nobody would have rescued her because why would they? What business did they have with Kana Kohaku? Who was she to them but some girl? What was this to them but some struggle they could just avoid? Why did they come out of their houses so quickly once the screaming stopped? Why did people look at the dead body and scream while not asking why I would do such a thing? Why did none of them help sooner?

Why did Kana look at me the way she did?

Why did Kana look at me the way she did?

I see Kana now looking at me like she's looking at an entirely new species of predator.

But I am not scared. I am not frightened. I am thrilled.

I am ecstatic.

I am electrified.

There is a voice in my head and an inexorable noise that's rising now from seemingly nowhere. The noise is like a thousand elephants dying simultaneously and the noise just won't stop growing louder. I hear something like the steps of a giant stomping and stomping and stomping as a thousand tiny daggers clutch my back.

Flakes of my burnt skin come apart—fading into ash when they so much as touch the ground; the tears coming from my eyes burn through the flesh of my cheeks and sink into the ground, the heat depressing the world around them. Like lava rock, my skin breaks and cracks and thrums with burning sulfur as my mouth releases fumes that would suffocate anyone pitiful enough to breathe them—my ears bleed liquid fire and the bones of my broken nose trickle down to the floor, the front of my skull being undone like a cracked vase.

There is a great dragon rising up from the bowels of my own iniquity—and he speaks with my voice, speaks my words, says things I cannot comprehend, things that would destroy me if I were to say them with my own mortal tongue—every mouth on the right side of the creature's face is speaking blasphemies, and every mouth on the left side says a different name—some names I know, others I don't. It is twelve thousand bodies tall and walks like an elephant with sixty-six thousand pillar-legs. As the lightning strikes it, it roars in a painful mire of its own sin and hatred and arrogance, falling to Hell and blaming the Heavens for its horrible nature.

When I ask him his name, he says _Yours_. I no longer know if I am dreaming or if I am awake as I see my eyes flash right in front of me and they blaze a bright topaz as I see myself smiling like a maniac—

And then I am in the interrogation room again. Staring at the wall. Staring at nothing.

I think of the man I've killed, Masayoshi Shido. Did he have a child? His child now has to grow up real fast. Did he have someone he loved? Well, she'd better find a new spouse. Did he have dreams and aspirations that went beyond becoming prime minister? He threw all of those away the moment he attacked Kana.

Masayoshi Shido is dead and I feel nothing but a desire to keep my heart beating at this rate. For a moment I am concerned. For a moment I wonder if I'm going crazy. For a moment I wonder if perhaps I've always been crazy and have never once felt it up till now, when backs are against the wall and loved ones are threatened. But then again, am I really unstable, if that's the case? Am I no more sane than any other man in this miserable world?

Is it crazy to want to kill everyone responsible for making the lives of others', especially those you love, a nightmare?

Is it sane when you don't?


	8. Prologue, VIII

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

The ensuing trial takes long enough to make my whole school year up to this point completely meaningless, due to all the time I spend in court along with hiding away from the public eye.

You'd think it'd be quick, but things keep getting in the way of progress. Another complication. A new piece of evidence that gets botched due to insubstantiality. A new _something else_ that pops up from the other side that never gets fully realized. Rumors being flung left and right about how perhaps this was planned by my father, by the Kanzaki Corporation, how my father has _always_ wanted to usurp Shido and was willing to get me to do it, but it is all nonsense that nobody really believes in.

The prosecutor is a tall, beautiful woman with dark eyes and silver hair; she speaks with authority and though her efforts are bountiful, they are ultimately fruitless. Because as the days go by, I really begin to appreciate the tall men in suits my father has allied himself with. They are quick and they are decisive and they don't pull any punches in court. They get the right people to testify and they hit the right notes: Kana and I were the only ones in the vicinity, Kana was being attacked, and I responded with lethal force to defend her because no one else would.

Goro Akechi even takes to the stand, vouching that my story matches Kana's and that the various bystanders he got to interrogate on the matter either heard the incident take place and did nothing, or arrived by the time I'd already done what needed to have been done. Behind the scenes, he often talks to my father and my lawyers, talks about the nature of the _crime_ and how much of a chance I have at surviving this.

 _The real problem involves those who've allied themselves with Shido_ , he once told my father. _They'll try to bury you, and they'll do anything. Shido's influence stretched all the way up to even the SIU. Heard a few rumors here and there he's even engaged in deals with crime bosses, some_ yakuza _, some less than_ yakuza _, and so on. You have to keep up defense and stick to the facts. And with Kohaku herself taking the stand, she's sure to curry favor with the jury._

At the end of every session in the courthouse, I even see Akechi talking to the silver-haired prosecutor and the two of them often seem at odds, though they're cordial enough to keep up pleasantries.

When Kana is up on the stand, she recounts what happened to her that evening and says I protected her, that she'd have been violated in that alleyway had I not come, and for a moment I am scared for her because the moment she brings up _nobody heard us_ I can just imagine all the people silently judging her in the jury. I can imagine all the reporters and the paparazzi in the crowd behind us watching the scene unfold and waiting for someone to say something that'll make a boatload of controversy.

I see the names they come up with for these kinds of articles, they're sensational and visceral and hit the spots they're supposed to. "Son of Corporation Owner Cuts Throat of Politician in Self-Defense," "Kanzaki Corporation Faces Severe Losses," "Potential Prime Minister Brutalized Before Death," opinion pieces on if I was too brutal in my approach, if what I did went too far, if letting him die the way he did could be considered inhumane. I wasn't offended or anything, because they weren't there. They weren't the ones whose loved ones were in danger. They didn't know what it felt like, to be so helpless and so enraged all at the same time.

I think of all the people in their homes following this news, because of course a lot of people follow this kind of news, I'm the heir to the Kanzaki Corporation, of course my face is plastered all over the news. Of course the newscasters constantly talk about how the son of a businessman _slit the throat_ of some rapist politician, of course there's gonna be people who're like _This child has murdered a great man_ and etcetera etcetera _etcetera_ , the murmuring is not what gets to me.

What gets to me is the fact that I've barely shared two words with my father since I did what I did, because Kanzaki Corporation had been in talks with Shido's people before I jammed a knife into the side of his neck. What gets to me is the fact that now the company's losing sponsors and people, 'cause the owner of said company has a son who bifurcated the head of a potential prime minister.

What gets to me is the fact that Kana always looks like she's dying inside, whenever her eyes meet mine; the fact that her family still looks at me the same way she does; the fact that Masako on the other hand is always just darting her big round eyes every which way because she doesn't know a thing. But in the end, it's all done and over with. I'm found _not guilty_ because what can they do to me? Put me in jail for protecting my friend?

That last day in court, Kana's parents and my father converse for a very short while, and while I am not able to discern what they're saying over the bustle of the courtroom, the conversation doesn't last very long and Kana and I can't even talk to her, I can't talk with her, I can't even see her for very long and as I'm pulled out of the room Kana's looking at me like she doesn't want me to go.

My father and I are now passing through people taking photographs and asking questions. Both mine and my father's heads are low and our eyes are scanning the ground and we don't say a word. People in suits are surrounding us, keeping us from the media, as we make our way into the car.

Yoshida is driving myself and my father and the men in suits I've mentioned back home. The ride is silent, for the most part, until my father decides to make everything even worse than it already is by talking.

"You're transferring schools in five months."

"What—?"

But before I can even get out the _What_ fully, he says, "Kishibaru's already requested you transfer. I've arranged for you to head to Shujin Academy, it's a bit deeper in Tokyo, but it's deep enough for you to keep a low profile. You'll be attending the eleventh grade again. You're gonna stay with an old friend of mine, runs a coffee shop. He's allowing you to bunk in his attic, and you'll stay there for the next year or so while things here die down."

Thoughts rush into my head, one by one. I'm thinking about how I'll have to be a second year student again, how I'm gonna be transferred to some school I've not even heard of, how I'm gonna stay with some old friend of Father's who's gonna make me sleep in some musty attic, and how Kana and Masako will be gone and how I won't see them for a long time and how the thought of that makes me feel as though she'll slip right through my fingers for some awful horrible reason and I don't wanna keep thinking these things—

"You have until April," says my father. "Make sure you say goodbye to her."

He knows what he's doing, like he always does. And I can't help but agree that this is the only option we can take. Not knowing that the bomb I dropped in killing Shido was only a prelude for what is to come.

* * *

 **\- SECTION VIII -  
And I say, "Yes."**

* * *

 _Please talk to me. I have something important to tell you_ , I say as I finish typing the message.

It has been a month since the trial's end.

And I am in my bed and I'm looking at my phone. Scrolling through the messages I've sent Kana these past four weeks. The messages vary in length, but they're all basically saying _I need to talk to you_ over and over again. She hasn't responded to a single one I've sent her, neither through text nor a call.

For the life of me, I don't know why she's not responded at all. I haven't visited her place at all this past month either, wanted us to talk about it somewhere without Masako or her parents or anywhere else in that monstrous neighborhood. I wanted to just speak with her and be with her somewhere we could both just be ourselves.

Besides. I don't need any more people in her neighborhood being reminded of what I did. If they spot me heading into Kana's house, I can't bear to imagine what they'd have to say about her and her family allowing a killer in their home.

I didn't want to tell her I was gonna leave for another school _through a text_ ; she deserved to hear it from my mouth, from my own voice. All those times we'd shared up till now, none of it meant anything anymore. I was gonna leave her here for one whole year. We could text and message each other and call, of course; I was willing to pursue a long-distance relationship so long as it meant being connected with her in _some way_.

But what would she face at school?

We've tried to keep her name under wraps, but the press always finds a way to get the truth out there. Her name's on every news article, every discussion, every single little thing in the media that has _anything_ to do with me. Now she'll always just be the girl I saved by ramming a knife in Masayoshi Shido's neck. Thanks to what I've done, I've now branded her. What kind of life will she lead from this point onward, her name constantly being associated with _me_?

I did the right thing, of that I have no doubt. But in the end, it wasn't a victory in any sense of the word.

For a moment I consider going straight to her place and telling her what is going to happen to me, asking her if she'd like to continue our relationship through long distance, asking if she'd even _want_ to continue our relationship at all because at this point I don't know what she's thinking.

But before I know it, I end up sleeping, deciding to forego pondering such an important idea for another time.

And when I awaken, I don't know where I am. But it is beautiful.

Grassy fields stretching for miles. A mountainside far, far away from me. The trees are not green, they have pink leaves the wind wafts through and around. The sky is shimmering like the waves of an ocean.

And it is red.

I see someone naked, and she is walking towards me.

Her green eyes are shining more beautifully than ever before, and I cannot help but ask why God would allow the most beautiful woman in all the world and the galaxy and the universe to fall in love with me, of all people. She is smiling at me, a smile she'd never given anyone before, and she is embracing my bloodied and broken body—I haven't the strength to tell her to stop, to tell her she'll just get dirty from all the red and ash.

But she keeps on smiling, her skin remaining clean, like my blood is unworthy of spilling over her. I can feel her heartbeat, I can feel her pressed up against me. She is breathing, the rhythm of her lungs matching mine, and she hums a delicate lullaby of sorts as I fall to my knees. I bow my head as I pull myself into her shoulder, pull her into an embrace. I tell her I don't want her to leave, that I don't want to leave her. That I don't want her to go. Please don't leave me, please don't leave me.

She does not respond, only humming that lullaby of hers. I tell her that I want this to last forever, even if this is all just a nightmare. I tell her that we should have a thousand years, all to ourselves. That I want to build her a house, that I wouldn't care that I'd never be able to touch her again, that all I want is for her to be _with me_ , in my arms. In a world without war, a world without hate, a world without nightmares.

But then she speaks to me.

"Do you wish to save me?"

And I say, "Yes."

And she smiles, before telling me, "Then save me from the desires of man, and the one who serves them."

And I am taken to another place, another world, another room that just feels all too familiar for me.

* * *

Kana is in the room.

She is sitting beside the _kotatsu_ and Masako is in the bed next to her. Kana is slumped over the _kotatsu_ and she's not moving. Just looking at her arms. There is a stillness she's able to pull off and she almost looks as though she is dead, but then she rips herself up from her position because she hears a baby crying.

She goes over to Masako and she's heartbroken at the sight of her because Masako's crying now, as babies do. Kana's phone is ringing out the noise her phone makes whenever she gets a new text message, but she doesn't answer it because her child is of course of more import than a text. She is now holding Masako close to her and saying _s_ _hhh, shhh_ , "It's all going to be okay, we're going to see him again, don't worry, don't worry, Masako, we'll...we'll see him again. He'd want us to be strong, don't worry..."

But all the while as she's holding Masako, she looks and sounds like she's on the verge of tears and I don't blame her.

Then I see the door to her room fling open. Kana and Masako turn. It's Kana's mother, but she does not look like Kana's mother. Her face is still, but her eyes are blank white and there is red all over her clothes. Kana's mother has a kitchen knife in her hands and she's moving like she's shambling as Kana mutters out a horrified, "M-Mom...?" as her eyes widen and her grip on Masako tightens on instinct.

Kana's mother brandishes the knife and when I say _brandish_ I mean _lifts it shakily_ as she makes a sweeping motion _down_. Kana just barely dodges the knife but in her fear and horror she's too busy asking herself the question _Why is Mom doing this Why is Mom doing this Why is Mom doing this_ to realize that behind her is the crib, and she's just jumped into it.

There's an inordinate amount of splinters sticking out of Kana's back, but she has to keep moving, keep moving or she'll die, keep moving or _her mother will kill her_ but before she can move anymore Kana's mother drops the knife and tears Masako away from Kana.

Masako's crying and crying louder and louder and I can't get it out of my head the sound of her weeping is crawling into my eardrums and _I can't get it out of my head and I want it to stop I want it to stop and_ Kana's begging and pleading, "No, no Mom no please why are you doing this—" but to no avail because right before her eyes Masako's body falls like a boulder.

Masako stops crying.

Kana is now grabbing her mother by the throat in her rage and she's screaming and she's begging " _Why why why would you do this Mom why would you do this Mommy why_ —"

But Kana's mother just punches her in the eye and the punch is enough to send her to the ground. Kana's mother continues punching over and over again, and the punches are all hard enough to make that unmentionable wet _crunch_ you'd get when bone hits pavement. Once it is all over, Kana's mother stands above Kana's unconscious body. The hands of Kana's mother are now splintered with bone and her fingers are mangled and there's blood all over her clothes and her eyes are still snow-white and she's letting out this groaning noise that I will never ever forget that sounds like a demon's inside of her trying to claw its way out through her mouth—

* * *

And when I awaken in a cold sweat. When I awaken in a cold sweat.

If you have to ask, you'll never know.

Before I know it I am in the car because I've ordered Yoshida to drive me to Kana's house. I remember that he objected to the idea at first but I ended up demanding more and more until he'd concede. I know I am doing all this over a dream but the dream felt real and the blood smelled the same and all the little details I'd see were all intact were all there and I could see everything and I don't want it to be true at all but it _might_ because that's how horrible the world can be sometimes, I should know this.

I have to wonder now what I wondered back then. God, is He punishing me? Is the Devil using this to tempt me? Or do neither exist, am I on my own? Was this a result somehow, of my actions? Some cosmic answer to what I did to Shido? No, it can't be. I did what was right. If I had not killed Shido, he would have done so much worse to the girl I love. How could the universe repay me this way? How could it repay her this way!?

Kana had just gotten free from a trial she'd been driven to attend for _my sake_ , a trial that would not have occurred had I not cut into Shido's throat, a trial that would not have occurred had I just _let her get raped_ and how could this be? How could any of this be?

When we arrive in her neighborhood, the car passes by various people going about their business _business that doesn't matter never mattered not even an inch compared to her_ and I tear my head in every direction in my fear _her house her house her house where is Kana and Masako_ praying that they'd be okay, praying that nothing too bad's happened to them, praying that if this is punishment for what I've done that I'd take it all instead because I'd rather me than Kana and Masako—

I see her house.

I go inside her house, rushing out the car as Yoshida's calling me back, beckoning me to return to the car and not be so hasty. I don't listen to him as I see inside Kana's kitchen a _body a body a body_ the body is of a tall man who has a balding head and a thick moustache and for a second I don't recognize him before I recall seeing his face in the crowd, during my trial, I recall seeing him with Kana and Masako and Kana's mother and everything comes back to me now.

The body of Kana's father is red and there are slash marks, on his chest, on his guts, on his _neck and I see a gash on his neck much like the one I gave Shido_ and I see all the red the dry red on the floor and _I never knew a human body could have this much red_ and I'm horrified and I'm terrified and it all looks so _beautiful_ but then I remember _Kana Kana Kana **Masako**_

I am running up the stairs just as Yoshida enters and he sees the body of Kana's father and he is horrified. I burst into Kana's room and I see her there.

Lying there. There is wood sticking out of her body and there are welts on her skin and her face has become so swollen and red and purple and _black in some areas_ that I can't even discern her features. She is bleeding from her face and from her eyes and I turn to Masako, Masako is lying on the ground right across from Kana and her eyes are open and _she's looking at me but she's not moving why is she not moving she should be moving_ _ **babies should not be lying still like this**_

Masako's not moving Masako's not moving Masako's not breathing at all **_was the throw that hard_** then I'm going to Masako I'm picking her up and I'm not trying to shake her— _she's been_ dropped _I don't want to give her shaken baby syndrome too_ — "Masako, hey, it's me, it's Akira, Masako don't, come on, breathe, you're a smart kid I've seen how you work come on _breathe why won't you breathe you're supposed to breathe don't be stupid you_ need _to breathe if you wanna live_ —"

Then I realize there is one body I haven't seen yet, there is one _person I haven't seen yet_ , Kana's mother _oh no Kana's mother where is she what is she going to do to us_ —and I see her.

She's also lying on the floor and the knife is in her heart and she's still. There's black things leaking out of her eyes and her eyes are still pure white with dashes of red veins all around the edges. Her clothes are covered in blood and she's not breathing or moving and I'm enraged and terrified and heartbroken and I just wanna _kill someone_ to get all this pain out of my system but then I hear a sound.

I hear Kana breathing, wheezing more like. I grab her and tell her "Kana it's me it's me I'm here don't worry don't worry," and I'm holding Masako in my other arm all the while, Kana's not making any sense she's delirious and she's scared and she's whimpering and I put Masako in her arms _because I need my arms to pick up the phone to call the police I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_ I pick up the phone Kana's phone even though I have my own phone in my pocket _stupid stupid stupid_ —

Should have called the moment I saw the body of Kana's dad but I was afraid and I was hoping to God my dream wasn't real but it was _Why God why'd it have to be real_ I dial 110 and before I dial 110 I see the last message on Kana's phone and the message says:

 _Please talk to me. I have something important to tell you._

* * *

Police station clinic.

Kana is sitting up in a bed, Masako in the crib next to her. The latter is asleep.

Kana's eyes are black and there are bandages covering her arms and her legs. Kana is saying the same thing over and over again, something I don't understand because she's speaking in a tone of voice that's makes whispers sound like screams. She's barely moving, she's sitting up and staying still and she looks almost like she's died in this position.

As for Masako, she has plugs and tubes attached to her, with an oxygen mask on her face to top it all off. I see how she's barely breathing, because I can _see_ her small lungs contracting and expanding ever-so-slowly through her clothes. I can _hear_ her heart beating at a rate no child's heart should ever beat at, and that's not because of the heart monitor next to her.

Kana is not even looking at me, she's looking at her hands. Looking at her hands through eyes so puffed up she most likely shouldn't be able to see. Her hospital gown is covering so many more wounds, I'm sure. I motion to hold her, to take her in my arms and embrace her, _because what else can I do?_ but then she shirks away from me almost immediately, grasping at her upper arms and breathing heavily as she's shaking and shuddering.

She's shuddering and she wants to cry and my hands are throbbing and I want to cry and I just want to hold her, I just want to talk to her, I just want her to _smile_ because I know she never will again, not after this.

But then as I feel a hand on my shoulder, I hear what Kana's muttering and somehow someway I find myself able to understand it, despite it not being loud enough to register on any human frequency at all.

"I am a curse."

I turn to the man who put his hand on my shoulder, and I glare at him in my impotent rage. He stares at me sadly, and he tilts his head to the door. To the hallway. So I can tell him everything. The man has long cascading brown hair and he is a detective who attended my trial, took to the stand just to help my case.

When we are in the hallway I tell Goro Akechi everything. Though not a lot of it makes sense to him I'm sure. I tell him of my dream, and how I had a hunch something bad happened to Kana and how I went to her place and just saw blood everywhere everywhere there was no signs of the red stopping at all, how I saw Kana's mom try to _kill_ Kana and her daughter and how I saw the corpse of Kana's dad in the kitchen and Akechi just _listens_ to all of it.

Before I can fully comprehend it, I'm crying and I can't stop the tears but I _keep on relaying details_ because that's what I do when I'm scared or sad all the details just rush in my brain and I take all of it in and I need to get it all out before it eats at me from the inside and I choke and weep and die from despair.

While I'm crying, Goro's putting his arm on me and he's holding me close to him in some sort of hug that is without affection and is done purely as a way to calm my nerves. But I can't stay calm because Kana's dying inside Masako's probably gonna die and I saw all of it happen and couldn't stop it at all. Goro then takes me back inside the clinic later on, sitting me down in a chair. Once I've gotten most of myself back to my senses.

We are far away from Kana and Masako, and he begins talking.

"She won't have to go to trial," Goro says, if only to assure me that she won't have to deal with anymore courtroom drama. "Doctors have stated, however, that her child is in critical condition. She's in a coma, and it's unlikely she'll wake up from it. Brain activity is low and her vital organs are showing signs of slowing down."

"There is nothing they can do...?" I ask him in a voice no louder than a whisper. I know he's heard me and I know he's not responding to spare me the pain but all it does is make me hurt more. "There's nothing they can do..."

"They're...thinking of euthanizing her."

" _What_!?" I exclaim, getting out of my seat.

"When they examined her, they found that specific parts of her brain were lit up after she was...," he turns away from me and he sounds like his heart's cracking open in two as he says, "after she was thrown down. She's feeling nothing but intense pain right now, if she's feeling any pain at all. There's little to no chance of her surviving."

" _No_!" I exclaim, turning away from him and holding my head in my hands, "No, no, _no_! This isn't right, this is _not right_! She can't, she can't, she's my—I'm not her father, but _she's my child you can't_...!"

"We won't...unless Kohaku-san gives the go-ahead," he says to me. "Only her mother can make that kind of decision. I'm sorry."

I then fall into my seat. There's a dull, grey feeling settling in my chest. And I'm sure it won't leave any time soon.

"There is nothing I can do..."

"There is," he says. To which I turn to him. "You must take her in. Breathe her into yourself. Never letting go of what little time you have left. That is all you can do, at this point. You are all you have."

And when he says that I am in the field again. I see a woman with green eyes, naked in the world. The world is grey. The sky is dark, thick with flies and ash. The grass is withered and carcasses litter the land. The universe is a skeleton, rotting in a mire of its own filth. And the woman with green eyes smiles as her eyes turn a bright topaz.


	9. Prologue, IX

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

Kana doesn't want to go back to her house, of course.

After my father arrives at the station he is filled in on the situation, and as such he allows Kana to stay at our place 'til she's able to arrange things with her relatives. The ride back home is silent because how could it be any other way? Kana just keeps her bandaged face peering out the window and she doesn't give me a single glance, not once through the ride home.

When we reach the house she holds my hand as I walk with her up to my room. The moment we enter, I sit her down on the bed and she lets go of my hand as she begins to stare at nothing. She doesn't even _lie down_ , she just sits there and stares. Every now and again I see her eyelids twitch or her fingers shake, but for the most part she's just stationary. Like a doll.

We sit by each other's side in my room for the next few hours or so, and when we reach midnight she sinks into my bedsheets. I turn to look at her, and I see her scooch over just a little, allowing for some space on the bed.

She doesn't say anything more, and neither do I.

I slip into the bedsheets with her, just as tired as she is. She's unable to look at me, so it's up to me to move the strands of black hair away from her face. I can still see the green of her eyes through the darkness and through the bandages, and even when she agonizes I can't help but find her beautiful.

I pull her close and she does not push me away. We do nothing more than stay with each other, in each other's embrace. And we stay this way the whole night through, managing to sleep only when dawn breaks.

* * *

 **\- SECTION IX -  
** **"And in doing so, you will deliver the vengeance I desire."**

* * *

Grey, grassy fields stretching for miles. The trees are withered, and there are bodies. Rotted, dry, stinking of parasites and insects, all of them filling nearly every inch of the world. The sky is shimmering like the waves of an ocean and it is red and I see someone naked, someone with bright topaz eyes, someone who should have green eyes and a red scarf on her because that is who she is supposed to be.

But the woman before me is not Kana, she is the creature responsible for giving me that vision, for allowing me to see the demise of Kana's entire family right before my eyes. So of course I am wary of her, yet I quickly realize there is little I can do to defend myself. If my hunch is correct, this dreamlike death world is merely an extension of this creature. There is no telling what could happen if I do anything to this woman.

I do not know if I should be grateful to her or not. After all, if she had not shown me that horrific vision, I would not have gone to Kana's house and neither she nor Masako would've gotten any kind of medical care for the injuries they'd sustained. Yet the way she smiles at me now, the way she gazes upon me as though she's gazing upon a toy for her to play with, it hardly rings of a creature with benevolent intentions.

"What do you want with me?" I ask her. "Why did you show me...?"

"I told you to save me," she says. "So you did."

"You aren't her."

"I am her," she chuckles, putting her hands behind her back. "I'm also you. I'm everyone."

I glare at her, and I ball my hands up into fists. "You didn't answer my first question. What do you want with me?"

"Very well, you want me to get right to the point," she says bluntly, still keeping up that smile of hers. "Simply put, I shall give you the power to save me, so long as you _give_ yourself to me."

"What do you mean by that...?" I grunt. "Speak in specifics."

She raises her brow, almost looking annoyed yet amused by my demands. "There is an Aspect of myself loose in the world. Years ago, I emerged into this world and sought to bring about something...," she looks at the red sky and for half a second she almost sounds nostalgic, "marvellous." Then she closes her eyes solemnly, cheerfully admitting, "Yet I was defeated. And in my failure, a part of me was... _lopped off_ , so to speak. Even I am not aware myself of how it had happened, but this Aspect of myself has grown to the point where it has become something else entirely. Something gruesome and irresponsible, and I must retrieve it."

"You can't do this by yourself?" I growl at her. "Why come to me?"

"Because, in the end, we share the same goal," she tells me. "You must be wondering what made my mother mad. Does it not eat away at you?"

I widen my eyes. My breaths tighten. My guts shrivel up as I grit my teeth and snarl, "Something made _that_ happen?"

"Something, and _someone_ ," she smiles, her voice turning deeper with each letter of each word. But she sounds like Kana again when she tells me, "This will not be the only tragedy. Not if you can help it. We both have something the other wants. You want to save me, I want to find the Aspect of myself. After I was defeated in years past, once that Aspect formed and grew and smoldered into something grand and vile and monstrous, something with a mind, I found myself weak. Utterly helpless. Though my power has returned, to some paltry degree, I cannot affect the physical plane the way I wish...," and then she closes her eyes as I realize exactly what she needs me for, "unless I bind myself to a mortal."

I lower my head and I grit my teeth, scowling as I say, "I presume this _Aspect_ of yours did the same?"

"Of a sort," she laughs. "Unlike me, he seeks to cater to humanity's whims. He wonders whether it seeks rehabilitation; or the birth of a new world under his rule, one forged through annihilation. He has chosen his own servant, and he has given him a power which could decide the fate of the world."

For a moment I wonder if I must be going insane because this all sounds like some stupid anime that nobody watches. But then I realize after everything that's happened that going insane really shouldn't be unexpected of me at this point. "This...servant...is responsible for what happened to Kana's mother?"

"Yes. He drove her mad. It is one of his many powers," she chuckles.

"Why would he do such a thing?" I growl at her. "Kana Kohaku and her family did nothing to anyone, nothing that I ever knew of; certainly nothing that meant Kana's mother deserved to be driven mad to the point where she would try to commit infanticide—"

"That's the most poetic part," she says playfully. "The man you slew like a mad dog, on the streets of your city, was his father."

At that I find myself marching right over to her, right into her face. I demand, "What is his name?" as my voice turns cold and my lungs hollow out.

"I will not tell you," is all she says.

"Why _not_!?" I scream.

"If I tell you, you will go after him, and you will die. Who, then, can be my vessel?" she chuckles. "Before I tell you his name, you must first obtain power. Once I have decided for myself if you are strong enough to face him, _then_ I shall unveil his identity. Unless you manage to find it out before then."

"You're lying," I immediately say. "You're lying, I know you are, you're planning on using me for something. You want me as your _vessel_ because you know I have a personal investment in this. You're gonna keep me in the dark so you'll be able to string me along, use me to gain power, enough so I can go up against whatever this Aspect of yours is, so you can take it all back and end my life when you have no use of me. I know what these _kinds of deals_ entail."

"My," she laughs, "you really _are_ intelligent...but in the end, it shall not matter. You will accept my offer. Sooner or later. The Navigator is already in your phone. It is only a matter of time..."

"What _Navigator_ what are you even—?"

"I ask you again," she says firmly. "Will you form a pact with me?"

"A...pact?"

"A pact," she smirks. "There is a Sea, beyond this world; a Sea of Souls. Within this Sea, creatures borne from the minds of men thrive. Some of them manifest themselves through individuals blessed with a connection to the Sea. Others manifest themselves out of nature's unconscious desires. Others still are personified through the collective will of the masses. _I_ am of the will of the masses. If you accept my terms, you will only have a connection to the Sea through _me_. The pact between us shall be a pact unlike any other established between any man and any creature born of the Sea. If you come apart, I shall restore you. If you hunger, I shall fill you. If you suffer, I shall end your pain. And in doing so, you will deliver the vengeance I desire."

"I don't want any part in this!" I exclaim. "I will not form a _pact_ with you! This isn't even real, for all I know, this is all just some crazy dream—!"

"You know it's not a dream. For someone so intelligent, you've made such a foolish rationalization."

"I will save Kana, but I won't do it with the help of some misshapen parody of her!" I scream.

"Your fear is clouding your judgment," she says, her face still and her expression stoic. "Without my power you will be unable to confront the fiend responsible for destroying my life!"

"You are _not_ Kana!" I snarl at her.

 **I** **am her**

And all of a sudden there is a black light that destroys the whole world, breaking it apart and tearing it asunder, the sky goes from red to white and the ground starts rumbling and breaking apart at my feet, the world starts shattering like glass though it's made of stone and soil and there's a horrible horrible noise that sounds like babies drowning to death, being drowned by their mothers and their fathers, then I recognize it as the last sound Masako ever made ringing in my ears a thousand times—

 **and I am you**

The world is dark and empty and cold and I see nothing yet I see _everything_. There are bones littering the streets and giant skeletons hanging over the cityscape. The sky is raining dark red, red like blood, red like Kana's scarf. People are disappearing as they're running all over the place and screaming their heads off, wanting someone to save them, their bodies are fading out and they want to live yet they don't want to at the same time—

 **I am the voice of humanity**

Above the clouds there is a creature that's diamonds, with metal wings that spread over the whole sky, white and blazing and wonderful. The creature speaks with a godlike voice and the creature demands authority, I see it with my own eyes yet I do not see it at the same time, I am seeing a figure atop the golden creature and the figure is wearing a mask and once it takes the mask off I can only see that this person resembles—me.

 **you are not even a whimper**

And when I see this creature that once took the form of Kana, it transforms into something impossible to describe, all sorts of alien geometries and indescribable shapes bending into each other and being absorbed into themselves. The creature is blaring out noises that sound like the cries of people burning in an eternal lake of sulfur and it is blaring out these noises through things that look like pores but they slither like snakes and they thrive like anemone.

There are colors I never knew existed, worlds I never knew existed, words that I never want to repeat being rammed into my ears, and unrelenting sensations that cause my heart to pound through my ribs and my insides to freeze over. I am trembling now, and I am on my knees, and I'm covering my head with my hands and closing my eyes because I don't wanna see it I don't wanna hear it I don't wanna know it even exists but _I do and I do and I never can stop knowing it exists_.

 **YOU DARE REJECT MY TERMS  
** **YOU DARE REFUSE MY PACT**

I'm holding myself and I'm shuddering and I'm scared and I don't want to see it, I don't want to describe it, I don't even want to hear it because being just in proximity to it, just _knowing it's there_ makes me feel as though I'm slowly going to go mad, madder than I've already gone. "Please...," I whimper, I beg, I plead, "please don't make me look..."

"Then, that's too bad."

I blink. Tearing my head up.

She is there. Naked, topaz eyes, looking like Kana. The grasslands have returned. Everything is how it was just moments ago.

"The pact can only take effect once both parties agree to its terms," she says, almost pitifully. "If you reject my pact, then I can do nothing but wait for you to accept. Or perhaps find another more suitable to the task."

I widen my eyes again, getting up from the floor and running over to her with my hand balled into a fist, "I won't _let you bring Kana into this_ —!"

"Knees."

I fall to the ground, like my arms and kneecaps suddenly weigh a thousand pounds. I cannot get up, I haven't even the strength to move. Sweat floods the back of my neck as I shiver and I tremble and am afraid again because she's walking towards me in the decayed grass, she's walking ever so calmly but for every step she takes I feel an electric current running along my spinal cord.

When she comes to me I can't bear to look at her, I can't bear to speak, my mouth is open but I can't say any words. She grabs me by the jaw but gently lifts my head up so she's looking at me, and I'm looking in her deep black soulless eyes, and she's saying, "You can accept my pact at any time. But unless you do so soon, you shall lose everything you hold dear, in the blink of an eye."

"What...are you...?" I ask her, wholly out of fear.

"A creature whose name you will call out, if you seek to save me," she smiles.

And the world turns red.

And I do not sleep again for the rest of the day.

* * *

Later in the day.

Kana is contacting her relatives through her phone in my living room. I should be with her, I should be staying by her side. Instead I am feverishly searching up everything I can on Masayoshi Shido, trying to find out if he has any children to speak of I should be wary of. However, nothing comes up in my searches, not even a spouse.

That creature in my head told me of Masayoshi Shido's child being responsible for the death of Kana's mother, through use of a power that is capable of driving men mad. I don't want to engage in any kind of _pact_ with the abomination of my dreams, but I must take its words into consideration. If it is right again, which it tragically enough most probably is, then this person will not stop at Kana's mother, will most likely target Kana herself later on. Or he could target me or my father and drive either of us mad with horror.

But what gets to me even more is the fact that mental breakdowns have become common in recent memory. Just a week ago, a bus driver ran his vehicle into traffic, even though he had passengers inside. A month ago, the conductor of a train reportedly ended up steering the train off-tracks and causing a massive collapse within the subway, risking the lives of thousands, injuring hundreds, and killing dozens. The conductor and the bus driver both reported to having not been aware of what they'd done at all.

When my search ends up with _nothing_ of value besides more unanswered questions, I end up treading down the stairs and I see Kana again, sitting on the couch of the living room. She's not even on her phone, meaning she either finished talking to her relatives or just never got started at all. She's just sitting there and staring and her eyes are dead and I'm afraid if I say anything to her, she'll just break then and there.

The words of the creature from my dreams are ringing ever louder in my head like some morbid cacophony as I hold my phone in my hand. I recall the word it spoke in one single instance— _Navigator_ —and I remember the night Kana and I affirmed our relationship. I remember an app that suddenly appeared at the bottom of the rest of the other apps I had on my phone, a red square that vaguely resembled an eye. I remember being unable to delete it and all I can think of now is that what this means is _That dream was real_ , _Something bad will happen to Kana_ , _Masayoshi Shido's child will kill us if I do nothing_.

So I make sure I hide myself from her before I click on the app, and my screen turns a bright red. The color stays for so long on my phone I'm almost afraid it caused my phone to hang, but surely enough letters start appearing, only to say things that make no sense.

 _Palace Owner:  
_ _Palace Location:  
_ _Palace Distortion:_

It's telling me to enter a name, then a place, and then a _Distortion_ in that order, all in a blank line right above the three categories, saying that the words can be entered in either vocally or through text. But I don't know what _Palaces_ mean or what _Distortions_ have to do with anything; all I can do was guess.

But if this has anything to do with helping Kana, protecting her from whatever has the power to drive men mad, I need to try anything. The police won't believe me, and no one else will. I'm the only one who can do anything here, and now. If this man is allowed to keep on freely driving people mad, then Kana and I aren't the only ones in danger. Perhaps I'm the only one who can stop him. Perhaps this is my first and last chance.

Perhaps in doing this, I'll be able to protect the ones I love.

So I write the name _Kana Kohaku_ in the blank line above all three words.

 _Palace Owner and Palace Location Confirmed_

What?

 _Palace Owner: Kana Kohaku  
_ _Palace Location: Kana Kohaku  
_ _Palace Distortion:_

None of this makes any sense at all. I don't know what Palaces are, and how their location could be a _person_. And what does it mean by distortions? What could possibly be distorted about Kana?

Then I recall something she said about herself, multiple times. She said this when I confessed my feelings for her. When she lay in that hospital bed, beside Masako. Helpless, painful mutterings in a tone of voice that made whispers feel like screams.

I write _Curse._

 _Palace Confirmed  
Transport to Destination?  
Y/N?_


	10. Prologue, X

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

When I press _Y_ , the world turns red and black for just a few moments; just long enough for me to register that something big is happening. And after five or so minutes, I find that I've been transported somewhere else. Somewhere that drains my voice from my throat.

The world is surrounded in blankets of red-hot fire. I see thousands of people all around me, burning and suffering. Worms are eating at their skin even though their bodies have been cast in flame. Men, women, children, no one is spared. I see a little girl with glass in her eyes and she's crying for her mother, saying she can't see. I see pregnant women, crying out and giving birth to irradiated babies that are dead upon arrival. I see bloated corpses filling the streets, splattered bodies along the walls. I see some people running and even though these "lucky" few aren't burning, their flesh is melting off from the convection alone.

My feet plant themselves in the ground and I can't move. I want to run away and I want to hide away, I want to curl into a ball and just live inside of myself for the rest of my life but I can't, I can't, I have to _see it_ with my own two eyes, _hear it_ with my own two ears, it's not something I can ignore. It's not something I can refuse. In my dreams, I'll hear it scream and I'll remember it every day, for the rest of my life.

I don't know where to begin when it comes to describing the atrocity before me. But the first thing that comes to mind is that it is _tall_. Fifteen elephants tall, and seven trailer trucks wide. Initially, I believe it is just a blindingly amorphous mass that's shambling in the dark, but I come to realize that there is _design_ to it after all. The creature has red flesh, like that of a skinned bull.

It has sixteen legs, eight on either of its sides, and each of its legs are like twenty-foot tall pillars of meat. Every time the creature lands one of its massive feet down, red spills from it like a winepress bursting open. Sprouting out from its back like shattered bone ripping through skin are a series of red rectangles I recognize as buildings; little yellow squares shining from each rectangle I see. Hanging from its underbelly appear to be fifteen thousand pairs of cow udders, all skinned and sagging and withered and pumping out blood, spilling it freely.

A giant black swathe of hair covers its head and tail, horns protruding from the ends of both of them. All the while it's screaming, all the while it's crying, in a voice I recognize all too well, because it's a voice made of up two voices. The voices of the two girls I love more than anything or anyone else in this world.

The creature then turns and when it turns I realize it's turning its head and I then realize it's turning its head in my direction, turning its head _to me_ , looking _at me_ , despite all the burning masses surrounding it, helpless before its unholiness.

And when it roars I see a bright blue light forming in its mouth—its mouth that has a thousand green eyeballs in the walls of its gums and yellowed and rotted teeth that are filled with worms and insects and grime and pus—and the bright blue light is burning burning further burning stronger burning ever so brightly and it's pointed _at me I_ have to move it'll kill me it'll end me move your legs, it's, this isn't real, this isn't real at all, this has to be a dream someone tell me this is a dream, Akechi, Dad, Kana, where are you I need you _Kana_ —

 _Do You Wish to Leave the Palace?_  
 _Y/N_

—and I will never press anything else faster than I press the _Y_ ever again.

* * *

 **\- SECTION X -  
** **"Give me wings."**

* * *

I hide in my room and as I hide in my room I curl up in a ball, in my blankets, and weep. I don't even feel like crying, my ears are just _spilling_ out tears like a waterfall, like something in my body is compelling me to cry. I want to throw away the phone in my hands, I want to get it out of my sight if it means getting the app away from me. I don't want to touch it, have anything to do with it, _be in the same room with it_ but I have to be.

I have to be because I wrote Kana's name down on a whim, because that _thing_ in my head had told me the Navigator would be useful in some way and I was willing to try anything. Because _that thing_ has something to do with Kana, is some monstrous formation or representation or _I don't know what_ that is but it's _from her_ , it's something _in her._

Or maybe I'm just going insane. Maybe I have already gone insane. Maybe this is all just some messed-up dream I'm having in the recesses of my hollow mind. What if this isn't even my dream? What if this is Kana's dream? What if I've never existed at all? What if I was just made up in Kana's head, as some manifestation of _something_ she needs to help her survive? What if neither of us turns out to have truly existed at all? What if we're dead? What if we're in Hell?

What if I'm dead and in Hell? What if after killing Masayoshi Shido, I somehow died, and now am in some purgatorial prison to live out the rest of my days till the Final Judgment? God help me, if You're there, why has this happened to me? Why would You let this happen? Why would You do this to us? I did this. I am responsible for all this. But did I have a choice? I killed someone trying to _rape_ my girlfriend, and look how she and I have been rewarded. Is this fair? Is this the way the world should turn? My actions, why did they have to have _these kinds_ of consequences? What could You want from me?

Should I have just _allowed it to happen_!?

I did the right thing in ramming a knife in his neck and cutting his brain in two. I did the right thing in making him bleed out at my feet. He was a monster and a rapist and a killer and he _**deserved it**_ _why should I feel bad for him_!? Why did You let any of this happen to me!?

Then I turn to the door cause I hear a creaking noise and I see Kana at the door, leaning very slightly against the frame. I wipe my eyes and I know she knows I've been crying, but I doubt she knows the real reason why I'm breaking down. She sits next to me as I get myself up and face her, trying to see _her_ and not the abomination I had seen inside her _Palace_ or whatever that place was.

She's looking at me and she looks like she wants to die but she tells me anyway, "They'll put Masako to sleep." And at that I turn to her, I turn to her because I want to ask her if she really just said what I think she just said, and I'm hoping that I'm just hearing things. It takes a few seconds before I realize I'm hearing nothing but the truth of the matter. She continues, "I couldn't make that decision in the clinic, with her _right there_. I thought it over the whole way here, and even throughout the evening." She then takes my hand and asks me, "But do you think that's the right thing to do?"

My mind is going numb as she's telling me all this, and there's a dull feeling settling in a place near my left lung. The only words my mouth can form are "You're asking _me_...?" because I can't make this kind of decision, how can I decide how a child should die? I then realize in my horror that _she_ 's the one who has to decide it, it's _her_ child she has to let die or suffer, and I'm just thinking of myself and how I fit in this mess. Before she can say anything else I backtrack and I tell her, "You want me to be honest."

She nods slowly.

So I tell her, "She is in immense pain, if she's feeling anything at all. And her vital organs are beginning to slow. The longer this goes on, the more she'll suffer. From a logical standpoint...it's...," I turn to her, she's not looking at me, but I know she wants me to continue on. "It's...the most..."

"Yeah...," she nods, "I thought pretty much the same thing, last night." Then she gets up and heads to the door.

"Where're you going?" I ask her.

"I'm heading over there, gonna give them the okay today."

"T-today...?" I stammer, getting up from the bed.

She turns to me, "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"What, what are you—?"

"You're not obligated to come," she says in the coldest, most unfeeling tone of voice. "You're not her father. You can choose to stay here. After I have Masako euthanized, I'll move out. I've already arranged things with my uncle and aunt, they'll come over and I'll stay with them starting tomorrow." Then she turns her back to me, heading to the door again, letting me just _stand there_ and take everything she's just thrown at me.

"I'm coming with you," I tell her.

"You don't have to," she says again, her back to me.

"I'm coming with you."

"You're not her father," her head sulks.

"I'm coming."

"I'm leaving. You're leaving. We can't be together," she finally says, and it hits like a brick to my chest. "Not after all this."

But still I say, "I'm not gonna leave you."

Then she whirls around and stares at me, looking like she hates me, like she's had enough of me, like she wants me gone as soon as possible. "Yes, you are. In a few months you are. And you'll never talk to me again, not after this, because why would you, what is here for you?"

"Because I meant every word I said to you, when I told you I liked you," I say to her.

The cold ice of her expression quickly thaws thereafter, and when she tilts her head down she speaks like she's got cobwebs in her esophagus, "You meant every word?"

"Every word," I tell her, moving closer to her.

"And you're not gonna take it back?" she asks, not looking at me yet not pushing me away.

And I tell her, "Never."

It's at this point she looks at me. Though she looks exhausted, though she's not smiling, though probably nothing in all the world can possibly bring her out of this pain she's feeling, she nods at me and grasps my hand as she pulls the door open.

Curses, palaces, distortions.

None of it makes any sense anymore. Nothing ever did, not since the day I became a killer. And as we head down the stairs—having Yoshida drive myself, her, and my father to Masako—I think of that golden-eyed creature in the decayed grasslands, and what answers she might have for all this horror.

* * *

For a second, I think I see her eyelids flutter. Like she's about to open them.

But Masako's eyes don't open.

And I am forced to accept that her breathing's the same as it's always been since she'd been admitted to this dismal place. She hasn't even a single hope of waking up, so I'll hope for her, I'll pray for her, I'll demand she wake up and I'll hold the whole universe ransom if I have to. Because right now, she _needs_ to wake up, this is her last chance to be strong.

If God be willing, I would be here and stay with her from now until the end of all time. Until the end of everything, and beyond. And I'm sure her mother thinks the same. I'm sure her mother hopes the same, that she'd wake up and this'll all end happily for everybody involved.

But Masako's eyes don't open.

For a moment I look at Kana, I want to see her face. She does not display anything. There's a void in her green eyes and though her mouth is open she is not breathing any air in, rather the air just passes. She isn't crying, she isn't scowling, her shoulders are still, and her hand is wrapped in mine.

And Masako's eyes won't open.

As she nods to the doctor and as I stare at the little girl in the little bed the doctor grabs a syringe. The syringe is filled with something that's supposed to make the little girl in the little bed sleep forever and ever, never to feel pain or suffering or agony. Kana and I watch the procedure unfold, as my father waits outside the room patiently. And I consider turning away.

I don't want to see this happen. I can't bear the sight. But of course, neither can Kana. She's seeing it happen, watching it happen, and she can't be somewhere else. She can't turn away, because as the girl's mother it's her responsibility to _watch_. Meaning I can't turn away, either.

I remember _The Little Prince_ again. I remember the ending, how the Prince returns to his home planet, returns to his Rose in the stars. How the Pilot implores the reader, if they were to ever find themselves in the desert, to stand under the star at the saddest and most beautiful landscape in all the world. And to tell him that, if they ever see a little man who laughs and who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, that he has come back.

A few minutes later, Masako's eyes can never open again.

And I realize then and there that she didn't even get to finish the book.

* * *

Kana is in my bed and she is sleeping.

She didn't cry the whole way home. Didn't cry when she curled up in my bedsheets and take hours to fully fall asleep. Didn't even say anything to me. Not one word. And as I sit in my bed, I look at her and I see something cracking if not having already shattered.

And I remember a dream I once had. Somewhere in the few days before I knifed Shido's throat.

In the dream, I was with Kana and we were both in our early thirties. We were in a kitchen and we were eating breakfast. Both of us were exhausted, because the night before Masako had asked help with a school project and needed it done by the evening. Masako and her mother had argued and fought because Masako had been given the project weeks in advance and had done nothing at all. But I had been the one to mediate between the two of them and get to working on the project.

The project was to make a little universe inside a box, one that described _you_ and everything about _you_. So of course Kana and I had tried putting in all the things Masako hated like pony pictures or sparkles or stars. Masako had gotten real annoyed but in the end it had been worth it. Kana and I smiled at each other at the table, smiled at how frizzy our hair had become and how baggy our eyes had gotten and how we were going to be _so late_ for our jobs but how it didn't matter at all.

So when Masako came down the stairs and kissed myself and her mother and bowed like she often had done and bowed while asking for our sincere forgiveness even though we all knew she'd end up being so forgetful again, we loved her and forgave her and told her to take care of herself at school. She saluted and she hugged me and she hugged her mom and she grabbed her bag and ran out the door.

But Kana and I then realized that she had forgotten her little universe and so we ran up to her room to get it and we got it to her _just as she reached the station_ we drove all the way there just to get the box to her and she laughed and we got mad and we just acted like some big stupid family that everyone else for some reason was able to have.

Kana will move out of my house tomorrow. She will stay with her relatives. She will be without me for a whole year. She may respond to my texts, may respond to my calls, may actually call up every now and again but it will not be the same. It will never be the same. I will most likely end up staying in Shujin for years. My reputation as a killer will not die down so easily in a single twelve months.

So she and I will be apart, and what we have right now—despite our promises—will most likely not last long-term. So I think about her, this one single night. I think about what I can say to her tomorrow, what kind of goodbyes we will share. Trying to visualize it, practice it silently. _I'll call you_ , I'll say. _I know_ , she'll say. And then...

Then I don't get much farther than that.

The creature in her _Palace_ will plague her. Destroy her. It is something that I know I saw, something real and something vile and something too monstrous to be a dream.

"I know you're there," I whisper, to whatever creature is in my own dreams. "I know you can hear me. What is a Palace?"

* * *

Instantly I'm transported to the dead world in my dreams and I see the girl with yellow eyes, the girl who looks like Kana, the girl who wants to seal a pact with me and obtain some sort of vengeance with me as her little tool.

And she immediately talks, getting right to the point, "A _Palace_ a manifestation of a human being's distorted perceptions of themselves, their desires, and the world around them. It is an entire world made manifest through a person's cognition."

"Then that...world," I begin, "that blazing, hellish landscape...that's what Kana thinks of the world...?"

"Not necessarily," she says. "That is what I think of myself."

"I...," I hold my head, "stop saying you're Kana—"

"But I am her."

"Okay, shut up, we won't get anywhere if we keep on debating what or who are you. Just...what do you mean, it's how she thinks of herself?"

"The creature you saw, wandering the landscape? Causing nuclear burns and destroying everything in its wake, wreaking havoc amongst people and shambling in the dark, wounded and bloody but still going on? That is her perception of herself."

"That _thing_...," I mutter out in disbelief, "is how she sees herself...?"

"Remember the Navigator, and its conditions. _Palace Owner, Palace Location, and Palace Distortion_. It is hardly rare for the owner of the Palace to be the Palace itself. Her perception of herself is that of a _curse_ , am I correct?"

"That was what I...wrote for...," and my eyes widened as everything began to dawn upon me, "her distortion..."

"Then there you have it," she smiles.

Kana sees herself as a curse. And this curse manifests itself as a giant eldritch abomination capable of releasing nuclear hellfire from its mouth, capable of causing havoc to the world and its people. Kana Kohaku was a mother, she _is_ my girlfriend, and she is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met in my entire life and I wouldn't give her up for anyone else in this lifetime.

So none of this makes sense. It can't make sense.

"Deep within a palace is a Treasure, a physical representation of whatever idea spawned within the owner's head that ended up creating their Palace. This Treasure must be stolen in order for the Palace to crumble. A change of heart will then occur within the Palace owner—the change may take days or even weeks, but the change will occur."

"So you mean...if I steal this Treasure, then...then Kana...she will..."

"Change. I will no longer think of myself as a curse, and I will find it in myself to move on from the sins of her past," she smiles.

For a moment I think I know what to do. For a moment I am willing to enact the pact between this monster and myself, all in the name of saving Kana Kohaku from her own twisted perceptions. But I then realize what this means.

"I'll be...changing her, won't I?" I tell her. "In changing her heart, I'll just...I'll make her into a different person, won't I...?"

I think back to our conversation back in Ginza, about _1984_. Kana's statements on choice, and how no one should have the right to take that away from anybody. How people must choose for themselves the way they want to live. And I wonder, if by _changing her heart_ , if I'm justified at all.

"It is morally dubious at best," the creature tells me. "And absolutely horrific, at worst. But my distortions have reached a boiling point. The incident with my mother and my child have destroyed what few vestiges of my psyche I have left, and you are my last hope at maintaining sanity. You will not see me for a year, possibly more. Everything I have endured, it is enough to have made my Treasure manifest."

"What do you mean...?" I ask her.

"Palace owners usually require a sort of warning in the physical world that alerts them to how their distorted desires shall be taken away. And these past few days...have been enough of a warning," she chuckles. "This is where the hard part begins. Creatures I know of that are delightfully vile and irreparably monstrous have taken refuge in and around her Palace."

"And these creatures are a part of her...?"

"As they are borne from the collective unconscious of man and all the ugly parts of it, they are strands of her distortion. They serve her Palace and guard its Treasure with their very selves, and will not hesitate to rip you to shreds if you attempt anything funny."

"That monster I saw, shambling about in the world...it is a creature of this nature?" I ask her while sweating nervously, my hands throbbing and my throat lumped.

She smiles again, smiles wider than she's ever smiled, smiles so wide blood flows from the edges of her mouth and I can feel the _tear_ in her jaw, "That is her Palace. But it is also her. So in destroying the Palace, you will destroy the monster that represents her, in her own mind."

At that I walk over to her and I demand the answer, in a grave voice, to the question: "So after taking her Treasure and destroying that monster...she will no longer think of herself as a curse, as you said?"

She just keeps on smiling despite all the pain she must be feeling, and she says, "Yes."

The creature is of Kana Kohaku. The creature is Kana Kohaku. Her distortions come alive. If I destroy it, she will be safe. The curse will be lifted, and she will be herself once more. She will be able to move on, without me. Move on from her past, from the horrors that have happened here, and she'll be able to find happiness once more. Find hope in the future, once more.

And she'll be able to do so without me.

Her emotions are hers, but they are vile. Her perceptions of reality are hers, but they will destroy her. Cripple her. They already have. If I do not save her, then how can she save herself? Words can't heal her, I can't save her, and she'll be isolated from me, the only person she _knows the way she does_ and has left.

So I say, without an inkling of hesitation:

"Give me wings."

* * *

 **author's notes:**

I love Persona 5. And I love the protagonists of Persona 5. But I _hate_ how they handled the idea of Palaces.

A Palace is the manifestation of the distorted perceptions a person has of reality and their own desires. The Palace owner, due to the nature of their distorted desires, causes harm to others and to themselves in the real world. Thus, it is logical to simply undo those desires if they cause others harm.

However, doing so is far from moral. It is essentially brainwashing others to serve your own ends. Though the Phantom Thieves in-game constantly claim they _fight for the people_ as justification for their actions, that does not make their actions any less immoral. They're still undoing a person's ability to choose for themselves what they wish to do with their lives.

Though the Palace Owners are undoubtedly terrible people, and though stealing their distorted desires does yield good results, the Phantom Thieves themselves aren't _clean_ either. Yet the game constantly treats them as the noble heroes, the moral center upon which the story's ideals are best reflected. When the Phantom Thieves debate on whether or not their actions truly are right, they end up brainwashing the Palace Owners anyway because the Owners are shown to be abject sociopaths who we as audience members should no longer feel remorse for.

When they are confronted with the horrible truth of their actions, they simply shrug it off and say they're doing it in the name of justice. But good intentions don't matter, only good deeds. And the Thieves never face responsibility for the things they do in any capacity. They're the heroes, through and through. They are given no time to question the gravity of their actions in any meaningful way, and the game never expands upon the heavy moral implications of their actions.

Which has always been odd to me, because Persona 3 and 4 were always able to articulate complicated ideas like death and self and perceptions of the world and others quite well.

The true ending of the game disappointed me because they battled Yaldabaoth due to his desire to give the destruction humanity wishes for and rebirth it under his rule. The Thieves proclaimed against him that people should have the right to choose for themselves, yet they _constantly_ , throughout the whole game, have decided howpeople should think and feel and do and _be_. They supposedly fight _in the name_ of justice, but their actions are definitely not just.

It's one thing to shoot someone in the name of self-defense, but to breach someone's personality and identity to the point where you change them into a completely different person is utterly terrifying.

Will this story end with a Bad End? I hope not, cause I still actually like the characters and even I don't like putting them through too much suffering. But what I want to reflect through this fic is how easy it is for any human being to succumb to evil...especially in the name of justice.


	11. Prologue, XI

**Prologue: Living Is Not Breathing**

* * *

"The time has come."

The world turns black, like an endless void. It becomes a void instantaneously, giving me no time to process what is happening, what kind of deal I have just struck. And I feel nothing. I should feel something, but I feel nothing. I do not know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I want more.

And then a black shadow rises up from behind me, rises from my back and the pain is excruciating but I remain still. My spine is being torn, my shoulder blades splitting apart down their middles and it hurts it hurts so much it's bleeding it's bleeding out red and bleeding out black and I can't make it stop, I can't make it stop, I don't want it to ever stop, I _want_ it to keep on bleeding and hurting.

"Hypocrite that you are, you seek justice and cry for mercy yet consign yourself to evil."

My brain starts snapping, there's an unquenchable noise rummaging around in the corners of my mind. The noise is loud and it's making my head shake and I don't want it to stop. I don't want it to stop because it feels good, too good, too unbearable to reject or ignore or cover my ears at.

"Hedonist murderer, you shall be my perfect vessel. You shall not die, not unless thine brain or thine heart touches steel. You shall not writhe in the pain humans oft cry out from, for I shall steel thine veins. You shall not fear anything, for I shall walk with you in the valley of the dark."

So as the noise rises louder and louder and my body grows blacker and blacker, as my face deforms and conforms and _cracks_ the bone of my skull yet not letting me feel pain at all, a steel mask cups my face. Allowing only my eyes to shine through.

"Give thine soul to me, my cavalier. Say mine name, if thou wishest to fulfill the pact and obtain the power to defend those you love."

But the pact has been made between myself and the monster in my own mind. The voice of humanity that treats me as nothing more than a whimper. There is a vile blackness in my heart borne out of my determination to protect those close to me, and if I must rend the faculties of my mind and my soul to achieve my goals, then so be it.

There is a great dragon rising up from the bowels of my own iniquity—and he speaks with my voice, speaks my words, says things I cannot comprehend, things that would destroy me if I were to say them with my own mortal tongue—every mouth on the right side of the creature's face is speaking blasphemies, and every mouth on the left side says a different name—some names I know, others I don't. It is twelve thousand bodies tall and walks like an elephant with sixty-six thousand pillar-legs. As the lightning strikes it, it roars in a painful mire of its own sin and hatred and arrogance, falling to Hell and blaming the Heavens for its horrible nature.

When I ask him his name, he says _Yours._

And so I say her name. I say the name of the creature who has given me the power to harness the darkness, and use it for my own gain. Condemning myself to Hell, so that my love may have a chance to experience Heaven.

 _ **"Nyarlathotep."**_

* * *

 **\- SECTION XI -  
** **"I love you, so much."**

* * *

I've returned to the world inside Kana's head.

Things are exactly the same as they'd been the last time I made a visit. The world is burning. People are running around and dying from nuclear hellfire. There is a creature that is too tall and too large for its own good, causing havoc upon the world. A creature representing how Kana Kohaku sees herself, in this tempestuous death world.

The creature turns its gigantic lumbering head, turns to me and sees me even though I see no eyes on its "head," it turns and locks its gaze with me and opens its mouth and I see the eyes again, see the eyes along the walls of its gums and see the decayed teeth and the blazing blue nuclear fires building growing spawning _burning_ in its gullet.

As the towering monstrosity nears me, lurching absentmindedly as it does, its mouth opens wider and wider, because it recognizes me, it sees me as a man who has not been touched by the fires in its mouth. I stare it down because all I can think of is how I can obtain the Treasure, how I can destroy this monster, and how I can escape this place without dying.

So that I may see her again, see her for the last time. And part on good terms.

So I call the creature's name as black envelops my form, wraps around me like black splotches of living charcoal, I feel things unhinge. And the creature rears its ugly head at me and the fire burns ever brighter I am compelled to say her name, say the name of the creature inside of my mind, binding to my soul, forever and ever.

"Nyarlathotep."

I want this pain to rip me to shreds. And as a cloak forms around me, a black cloak ornamented with silver accents that all resembled spirals, black feathers tore out my back and rose high enough to scrape the heavens themselves; higher than any skyscraper, than any human construct could ever hope to achieve. The hem of the cloak then ties itself into my skin, into my muscles, into my nerves. I should be feeling pain, I should be screaming out in abject agony as I feel an abomination seep into my veins, but I feel nothing. I can feel the tendrils sinking into my skin, into my pores, into my ears, into my nostrils, into my _nails,_ into _every orifice_ of my body except for my eyes.

Every feather hanging from the wings on my back is sharp enough to carve through corundum and their wingspan seems to stretch all over the world. I will need these wings, because there is absolutely no way I will be able to conquer the nightmare before me from the ground up. And when the monster that Kana believes is herself continues blazing nuclear flame in its wide mouth, I take flight for the very first time.

And I am fine with this. If it saves Kana, I am fine with anything.

"Faceless God. Lend me thine strength."

No. I do not know what kind of mistake I have just made.

* * *

Goro Akechi and I are silent.

We are sitting across from each other, in the restaurant. He's called me over to tell me something, give me something important. Something he found at Kana's house, while investigating the circumstances behind her mother's sudden rampage. But though he has called me over, he hasn't said a single word. Neither have I. And we're both waiting for each other to dispel this terrible silence.

Eventually he does, after a few minutes. "I'm sorry for what happened," he says.

I'm staring at my hands again. They are still. They are not throbbing, not shaking, not twitching, they are just...still. His words barely register because for a moment I wonder if that's all he has to say, then I realize there was nothing more he could have said. So I just nod pitifully, biting my tongue with that dull feeling settling in my chest. He closes his eyes, grabbing a little knapsack he brought in with him and unzipping it. "I...thought it best to give you this," he says, carefully laying a red notebook on the table. Right in front of me.

I wearily ask him, "Hers...?" my voice wavering a little.

He nods. "There's only one entry. It was written in winter. Right before the end of your trial."

I am shaking now. I am afraid. I grab the book and hold it in my hands. I've never seen it before. Never knew she kept a journal. She never told me.

"She didn't want you to read it. She didn't want anyone to read it."

"Then why give it to me...?" I mutter weakly, closing the book and grasping it carefully.

"It will help you," he says. "Twice now...you've been affected by the string of mental shutdowns taking place all over Japan. Tokyo's been a hotspot for these shutdowns. We've been looking into them for months now, but we're still nowhere."

I nod shamefully, meekly telling him, "Thank you," as my fingers tighten around the book.

Goro nods. Then he gets up from his seat, "I'm happy to have helped you in whatever way I could have. If you need anything, feel free to give me a call." I nod again, to which he comes over to me, laying his hand on my shoulder. "She's still here. You still have her. What I told you still stands."

"Hold her...," I breathe, "and never let her go. We are all we have."

He nods at me. Then takes his leave, letting me stay in my seat in order to read Kana's last memento. But I get to reading the first page and the first sentence hits me like a train. And all at once the memories begin to flood back. Memories I'm trying so desperately to quell in my fragile little brain.

I walk out of the restaurant and then I get in the car. Yoshida drives me home and the drive home is long enough to make me read the single entry Kana's written in her journal.

It was winter when I met her. And it was winter I lost her. I tell Yoshida that he has to bring me to the hospital, he tells me I've gone there twice this past week. But he doesn't say it with a scolding tone; he's worried, not agitated. But I ask him what a third time could possibly mean anymore at this point, and he falls silent. He reroutes the vehicle, swerving into a u-turn, and we drive.

Her handwriting is as bad as I found it before. And what's in her journal is exactly what I expected her to write, considering everything that transpired before the trial. But that doesn't make it any less deadening. That doesn't make this any less painful. It makes it even more so.

We buried Masako with her grandfather, away from her grandmother, because it'd just be horrifying. Even if Kana's mother was victim to a mental shutdown, how could we bury her next to her killer? No, no Kana was her killer I was her killer I said it was okay because she was in pain. She was in pain and that made it all okay it made it all okay don't you see that? It—

—we were supposed to be okay.

* * *

I'm flying. Because I have to fly.

She is there, the monster that speaks with hers and Masako's voice is there and it's shambling, it's alive. It's breathing, it needs to crumble to nothing. My eyes scan it, my golden eyes looking all over. Looking for weak spots, scanning for anywhere I can deal any form of damage.

My goals are clear. Get the Treasure. Destroy the Shadow. Get out. Return home. I don't know what I'm doing, what I'm thinking, what I'm wanting and how much these will end me. I fly and though my eyes see no weak spots necessarily, there is one statement that blares in my head, saying _psi psi psi_.

The creature I'm manifesting now is telling me it has nothing, it is just a lowly thief with the power of darkness on its side, and so I decide that will have to do as something innate calls out to me and shouts "Eiha!"

The blast of black and red is like a torrent of black arms striking the creature on its side, causing it to roar in its pain. The blue light begins to flicker in its gargantuan mouth but it is not dead, though it has been damaged. The creature continues to shamble though torrents of red begin beating down from the spot where I hit it, down from the spot the darkness scorched it, and I know I'm making progress.

More. Hit it more. Make it bleed more. Steal the Treasure. The Treasure is inside the Palace. The Palace is the creature the _Shadow Shadow Shadow_ Kana's _Shadow_ _kill it to take the Treasure_!

But then as I'm telling myself these things I look at a large looming shape that resembles the creature's arm and it's casting a darkness on me as it's moving closer, closer, close enough to hit me and it's quick too quick too quick for me to even _move_ and it has the force of twenty thousand eighteen-wheelers—

I am on the ground and I want to get up I need to get up I don't even feel any pain how am I not getting up. How am I not getting up. How am I even staying still, why can't I feel anything. Why. Why am I like this.

I lift my head up and I see my limbs. They are bent in all manner of directions and they are bleeding in ways that would render anyone else dead and dead and dead like I'm gonna be if I don't get up and find a doctor find anyone to fix me heal my wounds I don't wanna die I don't wanna die.

I have to see Kana. I have to see her. There's a world out there without her mother or her father or her daughter I'm all she has left and she's all I've ever had. Everything else, all the money, all the privilege, all my studies, none of them matter. None of them have ever mattered.

She's told me she's a curse, but she's a curse I'm willing to bear. She's told me she's a bad person, but if that's the case then if she's bad I don't wanna be good. I told her promised her _meant it_ that I would never leave her for anything else in this whole wide world because she is _mine_.

The world is empty, nobody could die for it or anyone else in it, but for her dying would be the greatest gift I could give I realize. My life for hers. This would be a good death but _not good enough_ because right now _I have to live_ —

My wings are gone. My body, my clothes, I'm myself again. I'm wearing a white shirt with black pants _the same white shirt and black pants I entered this place with_ where is the power I've been given where is my power the creature the monster _Kana is right there_.

She's standing over me, moving closer and closer and though she's slow the fire in her mouth is beginning to flicker blue again. Burning, burning, burning _get up you little fool_ my arms my legs they can't move they're too broken to move I can't feel anything why can't I move—

Then I hear the _crack_ ing noise. _Arms_. They creak and crack and sound like rattles as they reform. My right arm and right bicep start piecing themselves together, a thousand little black arms all thinner than a blade of grass gathering them from my wounds and acting as living breathing organic stitches made out of black chaos. The pain is blaring through me now and I'm feeling it it's almost too much to bear like my _body is being circumcised_ I grit my teeth and endure it and make myself feel all of it because it is what I deserve. As my other wounds begin healing and once my leg reforms I stand myself up and I glare at it I glare at the monster and I tell it it won't take Kana Kohaku away from me, tell it with my eyes, through the agony of my bones and through the _grrrinding_ noises my unsightly body makes as it reforms itself.

And as the fire burns and my legs reassemble the creature in my head lets out a lovely whisper, tells me another name, whispers to me a name I can use in this battle while I heal, and my voice is no louder than a dry wheeze and the words come out with anticipation as I say, "Dweller in Darkness."

A black shade sweeps over my form as the fire flickers out in Kana's unsightly mouth. Something hideous is forming around me now, something gigantic and dark and withered and indescribable. Something with a tentacle in place of a head. It is large enough to reach upwards, reach with its giant arms, arms longer than three train cars and it is able to grab the mouth of the creature and face the fires head on.

I see through the blue flames and I can feel malignant tumors popping up all over my body just from the proximity of it; even though I'm shielded, even though there's a giant abominable body shrouding my own, I _feel_ the burn and I _feel_ the pain and it starts searing through my skin like I'm in Hiroshima, in Nagasaki—

Then I see it, see something golden something bright something flashing in my eyes. Way down in the creature's throat, down the esophagus, hanging from some odd growth that looks like a beehive made of corpses. And the golden thing I see triggers something in my brain, a single word that says _Treasure Treasure Treasure **Treasure.**_

So I say the first name again: " _Faceless God_!" because I need to get in there and _get it_ with my bare hands but the blue light flares up again and it hits me like I'm _right next to the bomb when it drops_ —

It was a mistake the moment I'd entered that world. It was a mistake the moment I had agreed to the conditions of the pact.

I have the Treasure. It's in my arms. It's inside a glowing orb-like object as big as a basketball, one I managed to procure right from the monster's esophagus before I was promptly ejected from the ensuing blast of radiation. And I don't know how, I don't know why, but I am still alive.

I'm making a mistake. And I don't even know it. I should be getting up and out of here right now. But I'm on the ground. I can't feel my legs. I can't even talk because there's a mass in my throat as big as a baseball and I can't breathe and my throat hurts and _I can't feel anything but agony._

I have to kill it kill the thing it's coming closer its mouth is burning brighter again _again again again_ burning like it's another Hiroshima, another Nagasaki, it'll fry me it'll make me into nothing make me melt I can't feel anything anymore I'm healing but _will it be enough_? I'm suffering _but can't it ever stop_? I'm still alive and my body'll fix itself _but will it last just as long as I need it to?_

 _Are you going to give in?_ a voice in my head asks me, _hers_. Nyarlathotep's, _Your body shall heal, but we will not survive the next attack unless you run._

But I can't run I can't run. Kana, Masako, Dad, I can't do it. I thought I could but I can't. I'll die here and I'll die for nothing.

 _You will run. You must run. Or else you shall die. And you'll never see her again_.

My legs—I turn to them and I see they're still painful the pain is still insurmountable and horrible and agonizing and I _can't move move you stupid idiot_ —! You promised her! You promised you'd be there for her, promised you'd never leave her, _everyone else she has is gone and you're the only one left the blue is burning burning get up GET UP **GET UP!**_

"Megidola."

That one word. That is a word I will remember from now until the end of my life.

Something white and black and all manner of colors flashes in the air, right on the creature's mouth for less than half of a second—and then all I see is red. Like several waterfalls all spilling downwards at once, blood rushes down from the open maw of the creature as pieces of black and red and dark meat _crashes_ to the ground. The creature howls out a sad, horrified, torturous wail that is loud enough to be heard on the other side of the universe. The creature staggers, tries to stand, its front legs trembling. The towering monstrosity lifts what's left of its head up one last time before it too _crashes_ to the ground, kicking up rocks and dirt and clouds of dust higher than any skyscraper in all of Japan.

The impact is like ten thousand meteorites crashing into the planet as I struggle, the ground before me caving in and very nearly taking me into the dark void below but as I worry I end up realizing I am worrying over nothing. Physics does not seem to apply in this cognitive world, not as much as it should, not as much as it does in reality and for that I am extremely grateful.

I stare through the smoke, through the dark clouds filling the red skies. There is a lumbering, guttural noise that sounds like a lion purring as it dies of old age. The sound then turns cacophonic and screechy; imagine what kind of sound your throat would make if you were to try sucking in as much air as possible without having a lower jaw. And then imagine that noise being amplified by a million octaves.

There is a clattering noise and I turn to it. There is a black gun, and it is right next to me and it must have been dropped it must have been wielded carried by _someone_ but who? Who?

And then I see him.

He is a tall, lanky figure who is a little taller than I am and he is standing over me. He is shrouded in a darkness that even I cannot see through and he is wearing an extremely large black helm that resembles a wolf's head. He is looking down upon me, gesturing to the gun, as though telling me to use it.

I mutter out a "Wh-what are you...?"

Then he simply turns away, walking with his hands in his pockets. I pull myself up to see him as he pulls out his own phone and in a flash of red and white and black vanishes from this plane of existence.

Then I hear another noise, a new noise. A noise that sounds like a million worms squirming through intestines as large as sewer pipes that stretch over a thousand miles. The noise just keeps on growing louder and it won't ever ever stop and I want it to stop, please make it stop, it sounds like a baby, it sounds like a baby.

The noise just keeps on going and going because there's something _emerging_ from under the giant corpse something large and unspeakable. It is withered and it is crawling, covered in liquids that are red and white and transparent and it has boils on its flesh, boils all over it, lesions that won't ever heal and wounds that never ever seem to stop secreting pus. This new abomination looks like it's a thousand years old even though there is a tube as long as a thousand men stretching out from its belly all the way to the underside of Kana's monstrosity.

The new creature looks up at the black sky with its withered head. Its arms and breasts and knees are blackened with something that resembles ash but isn't and it looks like a skeleton. The creature is at least fifty feet tall and it's looking at the sky like I said earlier and it's wailing, crying, weeping,

 _ **Mhaaamma**_ **, _Mhaaama,_** _ **Mhaaamma**_ **, _Mhaaama_**

So I take the gun and I fire at it.

It screams.

Black tendrils envelop the gun as I keep on firing, keep on hearing it scream.

It screams again and I don't want it to stop screaming.

I'm firing at both it and its mother and I won't ever stop until they're both dead. I don't want them to live. I don't want to see them. I don't want a single trace of them left in this world. The gun keeps on firing.

It's screaming and I'm screaming; Kana's screaming, howling lowly behind me. I won't ever stop pulling the trigger.

But I should. I should be leaving. I should be getting out of here. I've taken the Treasure. The change of heart will be triggered. If I just leave them alone, it'll all be over. But I don't think about this and I don't care. Just make them both die.

Before I am aware, the gun begins blazing. There is a white light emanating right at the muzzle and it's bright enough to very nearly blind me. But it is beautiful and my hand is trembling from the new weight of the power I've got right in my hands, as a female voice tells me to do it, to fire, to take every single aspect of myself and put them into this single bullet, to imbue it with all of my sins and all of my agonies and use it to finish off every single last monstrosity I see right before my eyes in one final Sinful—

"—Shell."

And I fire. And as I fire I hear laughter. And as I hear laughter I see the two abominations before me with holes as large as the world having run through them. And the two of them scream as something in them burns, something white-hot and beyond nuclear something that can kill entire worlds if left unchecked something that isn't divine, something unholy and horrific and something that'll condemn me surely if I ever use it again and the world is turning white and black and red and everything I need to get out I need to get out I need to escape

I must get up. I have to get up. I have to get out of here. My phone. I need my phone. Transport me get me out of here now I need you _now_ —

 _Do You Wish to Leave the Palace?_  
 _Y/N_

* * *

I am sitting in a chair. And across from me is her.

I do not deserve to even be here. I do not even deserve to be looking at her the way I'm looking at her now. She doesn't deserve to be in the hospital, in a bed, in a coma. But here we are. Thus is the way of the world. Should I be grateful that she is not dead? Should I be grateful worse didn't happen to her?

I am in a hospital, and it's a little after 4:00 PM.

Just thinking about it makes me shudder and as I shake in my impotence I see the pale skin around her eyes twitch a little. She's breathing steadily but for some reason I see it as though she's going to finally awaken, that she and I would get to live our lives the way she and I wanted us to live our lives. But, like her daughter's in days past, her eyes don't open and I am forced to accept that her breathing's the same as it's always been since she'd been admitted to this dismal place.

You'd think there'd be no point to any of this.

I'm sitting here, in a chair. Waiting for the hours to roll by and hoping for her to come alive again. A million I'm sure she wills passing through my brain and a billion I'm sure she won'ts beating all hope back down into the bottom. Distorted and loud and wailing, I hear something crying out from inside my head and I know how melodramatic that sounds but it doesn't matter because nothing else matters but her.

She has no parents, she has no friends, she has no one but me. She hasn't even the hope of waking up, so I'll hope for her. I'll pray for her. I'll demand she wake up. And I'll hold the whole universe ransom if I have to. Because no one deserves to have so little and no one deserves to be so helpless in this unjust world.

"You said if her Palace was destroyed she'd...she'd no longer think of herself as a curse...," I mutter out.

"I was right, wasn't I?" she laughs. I turn to her. She's standing over Kana's body and she's looking at me with her insufferable topaz eyes and she's chuckling, "As I am now, I'd find it hard to think about _anything_ let alone have any opinions on myself."

"You didn't say what would happen if I destroyed her Shadow," I grunt out to her, scowling pitifully all the while.

"I told you all I needed to tell you. Take the Treasure, the change of heart will occur. You were the one who chose to destroy my Shadow."

"You're not Kana," I snarl as I rise up from my seat. "You, you _told me_ you'd help me!"

"I did help you," she smiles. "I gave you power."

"You took her away from me," I growl at her. "If, if I had _known_ , if I had known killing her Shadow would have led to this...none of this would have happened..."

"You wanted it, didn't you?" she laughs. "To destroy it."

"I didn't know...I didn't know this would..."

"Not like you really cared," she smiles, marching over to me. "So blinded you were by your desire to save her that you ended up destroying her. The irony is almost palpable."

"You should have _told me_!" I shout right in her face. But then I hold my head, whimpering almost, "You...you should have...I should have..."

"You wanted to save her," Nyarlathotep says. "Your love for me is genuine. I'm touched, honestly. When I saw you face my Shadow I found myself admiring you all the more, grateful I found for myself such a wonderful cavalier as you. So passionate, so driven, so... _powerful_. Indeed...you truly are a remarkable human."

I continue holding my head, unable to keep myself inside anymore. Unable to hold everything in. I am afraid. I am cold. Why can she not wake up? Why can't she be here, with me, awake again? We were supposed to say goodbye. "We were supposed to say goodbye...and now we...we can't...we can't even...," I get out of my seat, clutching at the bars of her bed. "God, somebody, anybody tell me."

Nyarlathotep is gone now. She is not here. She is not watching. She has left me here, to keep watch over the girl I love, the girl whose mind I ruined, the girl whom I had promised to protect and never ever leave. And the gun I used, the weapon I used to end her...was a weapon given by a monster in a black mask. A monster who knew of the power of Palaces and the _Metaverse_. A monster who sought my end, because I had slain his father like a dog in the streets.

I am slumped in my seat now, looking at Kana and looking at the window. The world is standing still. The snowflakes dotting the windows won't melt at all now. I haven't even the strength to weep or cry or break down. I hold Kana's hand. I hold her hand and I remember.

I remember returning to the real world after destroying her Shadow. I remember awakening back in my room. With her, in my bed. I remember wearing my regular clothes, all the wounds I had endured back when facing her Palace gone. And I was scared to wake her. I remembered being so frightened, remembered being scared that if I were to break her out of her sleep now I'd end up doing something wrong, end up breaking her like I ended up doing anyway in the end.

I remember seeing her eventually waking up and turning to me oh-so slowly. In the dead of night she turned to me and my eyes had already adjusted and I saw her and she was beautiful. So beautiful. She was staring at me, while I was right next to her. Wondering what she was thinking. She smiled at me and said her last words to me, before her eyes rolled into her head, before the black started seeping out before she started spasming and writhing and groaning and crying out like a demon was trying to come out of her and I was holding her—

 _I was holding her I was holding her_ I didn't want this to happen I called out her name and I begged her _begged her_ Kana, Kana please "Kana please stop Kana! Kana—Kana, I— _KANA_ —!" all I did was just call out her name and hold her I didn't know what was happening I didn't know what I did wrong I didn't know I wanted to know I _wanted to know what I did wrong God what did I do_!?

And do you know what she said to me? Do you know her last few words?

Do you know what she told me, right before she shut down and writhed like an animal?

"I love you, so much."

And that is why I cannot face the Wolf. That is why I cannot ever use the Metaverse ever again. That is why I cannot ever fight this kind of fight, not any longer.

I hear her voice in my head and it's _not_ the creature, it's not the abomination, not the _demon_ I've made a deal with it's _her_. It's her, it's her, it's her, it's her. She and I are outside, talking at the front gates of the school. I am shrugging her off and getting in the car. Then we're on the rooftop, where I deduce she has a child keeping her from doing well from her studies. Then I'm with Masako, playing with her, reading _The Little Prince_ as Kana sleeps on the _kotatsu_.

Then she and I are playing Gun About while talking about society. She and I are on the train. I'm telling her I like her and she's inviting me to Destiny Land. I'm happy. Singing in the rain. A red eye is in my phone now. Then the red happens. Red. All of it red. His neck burst open from the side, carotid artery torn open. Bleeding out, my feet. Painful, drunk, blistering. My first victim.

Trial. Her at my back. Her at the end, holding my hands and not wanting me to go. Not wanting me to leave. But I do leave and I have to leave and I _don't want to leave_. She is lying on the ground and her baby is on the ground and her mother and her father are also lying on the ground and it's a massacre it's a massacre of unimaginable horror. She's dying and her baby's in pain but we have to get out.

I'm watching over Masako's little body being shut down for good this time. Shut down forever. Never once even knowing the ending of _The Little Prince_. She needed to wake up she had to wake up her mother was there, if she'd have lived she'd have had _Kana for a mother_ and that's the highest gift anyone could've ever given a child like her but she's dead now. She's dead, and she's buried in a coffin that had no right being as small as it was.

I'm removing a small picture frame from my backpack, the one I brought along with me and I stare into it, I stare into it because I deserve to feel the agony I feel. I stare into it because I need a reminder. I need something staring at me, staring back at me every single day of my life to tell me that I can never ever go back to that world ever again for any reason.

The photograph in the frame shows a woman and a man in their thirties, their teenaged daughter smiling with both of her hands in a _V for Victory_ sort of greeting to the camera. The woman is wearing a red scarf around her neck. She and the man have golden rings around their ring fingers as they're huddled up, having posed for the camera as well. The man is raising his hand up while giving a weak smile, the woman giving a _V for Victory_ like her daughter. All three of them are in front of the gates of an amusement park called Destiny Land.

Tell me. How can I fight again?

How can I, with her Treasure staring me in the face?

* * *

 _Journal Entry 11/17/20XY_

 _This will be the only entry in this journal I know it because I'm not much of a writer but I need to do something I need to spill it all out somewhere or I'll just break apart._ _I want to scream and keep on screaming because there's something in me, I can feel it, there's something in me and it wants to come out but it won't and I don't want it to._ _It is loud and it is enraged and it's scary and frightening because I see it in my dreams, when I do dream. I see it always and it tells me it'll take away everything close to me, and I know what it is because it speaks with my voice. Mine and Masako's._

 _It'll kill Masako someday. Mom too, perhaps. And I don't even want to think of what it could do to Akira if I let it loose. It's wrong and evil and I don't want it in my body I don't want it in my body I don't want it in my body but it won't ever leave won't ever go away and I need someone to help me get rid of it. I need someone to tell me I'm okay. But then again I know it'll be a lie, I know it's just something they'll say to make me feel calm because I'm so stupid I think it's better to keep silent than to actually say anything.  
_

 _Akira's already in trouble because of me, because of it, I don't know. It says I'm a curse because I say I'm a curse and I'm inclined to believe it I want to believe it I need to believe it because otherwise all this pain that everyone's going through is happening for no reason at all. That's the worst part. I want to believe it doesn't exist because I want to believe I'm okay, but I know it has to exist because there has to be a reason for why I was almost raped why Akira is going to jail why Keiichi left me and Masako why everything always always goes wrong even when something right is supposed to happen.  
_

 _Akira's been the second best person I've ever met in my life besides Masako. And I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to go. I don't want him to suffer not even for my sake because he's not a bad guy I thought he was when I met him, thought he was a cruel horrible selfish jerk but he's not. He's not and he doesn't care how good he is he doesn't even know he's a genius and he doesn't know._

 _Masako deserves a better mom than me. I'm poor I'm unhealthy I'm stupid and I'm selfish. I'll drag her down when she decides she wants to grow up and do something with her life and I know it. I should be there for her being the mom I'm supposed to be but I know I'll never make it past high school, I know I'll never make it to Tokyo U, I know that everything I've been doing up to this point has just been delaying the inevitable. What kind of life will Masako lead? What kind of life can I give her?_

 _I'm a curse who drags everybody down to Hell along with me what can I do for my only daughter? I can't even read a book to her without her wandering off. I can't even be there for her when she's sick._

 _I'm sorry Masako. I'm sorry for being a bad mom. I'm sorry for never being able to be there for you. I'm sorry I can't stop you from crying when Akira's not around, I'm sorry you have to live in my house, my squalid shanty of a house that barely counts as a house, I'm sorry you were ever born in the first place and I know how that sounds I know dear God in Heaven I know how that sounds but I mean it because not everyone deserves to have a legacy not everyone deserves to be a mom._

 _I don't know why Akira says I'm good. He tells me these nice things and I know he means them and I don't want him to go to jail because of me I don't want him to suffer because of me I don't want him to lose a thing because I'm here I'd rather we break up than let him suffer just by being next to me. He's given everything for me because he thinks I'm someone special but I just want him to live._

 _I want to hide in a hole, forever._

* * *

 **author's notes:**

And so the die has been cast.

Akira Kanzaki's journey is only beginning.

Here we have our protagonist: imbued with the powers of Nyarlathotep, he has wrought the greatest tragedy he could have ever wrought upon himself through one simple mistake. And this mistake shall remain with him for the rest of his days. Kana Kohaku will linger over him, linger in his dreams and in his mind for the rest of his life. And every time he will use the Metaverse, he will only recall what he has destroyed.

If I had to pick one of the Deadly Sins for Kana, it'd have to be Despair. And you know that Akira's now sharing her sin, too.

When I saw previews of Persona 5, when I became aware that the P5 MC's Ultimate Persona was Satanael _and_ that he was basically brainwashing people into being good, I ended up thinking, "Well, of course, he'd have to be evil."

Though not even I knew what I would end up writing him as. Initially I thought of him to be a selfish, bloodthirsty jerk who would be willing to do whatever he deemed necessary to save others. But now he's just really, _really_ sad.

This is the only path he can go. Thank you all for reading the story thus far. Tune in for next time, when the real story begins.


	12. Prologue END

**Prologue: Living is Not Breathing**

* * *

Months pass since Kana, since Masako. Even when spring comes, the cold still stays, and I doubt it should leave anytime soon. Weeks turn into seconds and when I find it in myself to look into a mirror, I find that I appear to have aged ten years. And when I take to the internet, I'm genuinely surprised to find out just how little people can care. But I really shouldn't be.

Imagine how many articles are talking about Shido. About me. About Kana.

More women are stepping forward, revealing that Shido had come onto them as well, and public opinion shifts rather quickly when the accusers' numbers jump from the single to the double digits to near one hundred. Kana's story becomes buried beneath other stories, and soon even Shido's most stringent supporters fall quiet for fear of public scrutiny for being offensive. So many _brave_ and _courageous_ women step up on social media, bawling their eyes out about Shido, talking about how he had touched them here and there.

These are women who had supported Shido. Worked with him for years. And yet they'd said nothing. None of them, not until now. None of them even _mention_ Kana, as they whinge about their own sufferings on live TV or on broadcasts. They had all worked under him and had even hired others to work under him, yet never stepped forward until now.

The controversy stops being around Kana and focuses on Shido's monstrosity.

They had all kept it under the rug. All those women Shido had kept in the palm of his hands. None of them had said anything. None of them had wanted to; had they all been too afraid? Was that it? _Now_ was the time to be courageous? When a woman was almost raped? When Shido is already dead?

Their triumphant calls for action mean nothing. They are hollow. Not courageous in the least.

Shido's candidacy as a potential Prime Minister? That's all swept under the rug. There's no mad scramble to determine just who would be fit for the role now; the other candidates voice their opinions on Shido's demise in the news and on the net, but they don't talk about it for too long. Why would they talk about their dead opposition? Bring attention to a dead man, when the attention should focus on them?

No one comes to the house. No paparazzi, no interviewers, nothing. It seemed just yesterday that I was up to my neck in people asking me why I did what I did so brutally, so _heinously_ ; articles would pop up every now and again, some calling me a hero. A good number, actually, saying some rather nice things; that I did the right thing, that I saved an innocent girl's life, that I only did something completely and utterly natural given the circumstances. But even those are few and far between.

No articles mention Kana. Not as she is, now. Some would bring her up, because of course they would. Other articles would frame her sympathetically, shunting her child into frame and making her look like a frail mother who had only needed protection. Other articles, the more conservative sort, would barely bring up the fact she was a mother. But none of them talk about how she's in a coma, right this very moment, in a hospital right in the middle of Tokyo.

Like it didn't matter. Like none of it mattered.

Kanzaki Corporation's getting in talks with the Nanjo Group now, and we're getting stocks and sponsors back. Supporters are becoming more vocal, and people are getting less and less afraid to invest in my father's business. So why does it all feel so hollow?

Why can't I stop feeling so empty?

I stop looking at articles when I remember a decayed wasteland.

The creature that gave me the power to save Kana...I've not heard its voice, not since my last visit to the hospital. Not that I would _want_ to hear it. It and its golden _eyes_...

Its name is something difficult to pronounce, even in English. When I search it up on the internet, I see images. Sketches, some digital and some traditional. They all contain tentacles, masses, eldritch things. I see the name _Lovecraft_ appear every now and again, the creators of these images apparently being fans of his work.

I'm unfamiliar with Lovecraft. Which may sound unbelievable, considering I'm a fan of Orwell and Saint-Exupéry. So when I take the time to actually sit down and search up who Lovecraft is, what he's written, and what kind of creature I've just sold my soul to, the world tilts and never sets itself back in order.

H.P. Lovecraft is an author who's considered the creator of the cosmic horror genre by way of his Cthulhu Mythos. A "grand" mythopoeia centered around humans, and their interactions with various eldritch horrors from beyond the veil of time and space; creatures so vile and unimaginable that to even bear witness to their true forms would often be suicidal at best.

The character of Nyarlathotep is a deity in Lovecraft's tales, where it is known as the Crawling Chaos. First appearing in Lovecraft's 1920 prose poem of the same name, later writers would describe him as one of the Outer Gods. In the end, Nyarlathotep is a creature characterized by his malignant intent, as one who would meddle in the affairs of the mortal realm as opposed to his eldritch peers, who view human beings as less than ants and as such wouldn't care for them in the slightest.

Willing to plague humanity, willing to play around with them as though they are tools. The implications of all of this would mean that Lovecraft's texts are indeed true, and that the universe is as hopeless as they seem to indicate. Yet there's nothing about Palaces within Lovecraft's stories; but all too often, his stories contain men losing their minds to creatures far greater than they could ever be.

Thematically, his stories all present the thesis that humanity is but a speck of dust in a grand universe far beyond its comprehension; if we were to disappear in a flash, there would be no one to care at all. We are ultimately too small for our own good. Our universe is bound to end as suddenly as it was created.

This is further compounded by another character, one stated to be Nyarlathotep's objective superior.

Known as the Blind Idiot God, the Daemon Sultan and the Nuclear Chaos. It is a boundless deity of colossal proportion. The all-powerful ruler of the Outer Gods; omnipotent and vile, the creator of all of existence. A creature indescribable in and of itself, at the center of all space and time, it spawned reality itself within a dream it did not know it even created. Whilst he is asleep, he is not all-knowing and is completely mindless. But when he awakens, all things will end, once and for all, and all will once again be—

"My my, aren't we a little studious?"

I whip around in my seat, and I see her. Wearing that red scarf, wearing Kana's clothes. She has the same freckles as Kana would. Strands of her hair hang over her face, as Kana's hair would. Even the pores on her skin are the same, the way she smiles is the same. The only thing that stands out is the color of her eyes.

The golden eyes blare into me as I get up from my seat.

* * *

 **\- FINAL SECTION -  
"Please don't leave me."**

* * *

"What are you...?" I ask her. I ask it.

"Too broad a question," she replies. "You could call me the Devil, if that suits you. The Crawling Chaos. The Howler in the Dark. The Faceless God. The Sphinx. I have a great many names."

"Why...?" I growl. "Why, out of everyone, did you pick _me_ to...!?"

She shrugs, "You were there."

" _What_!?" I scream.

"Very well, I'll grant you this mercy," she sighs. "You were to be _selected_ by my Aspect. The one that has splintered off of myself. You were to participate in a game of his, to fulfill a role he would select for you."

I can bear it no longer and I flop to my bed with my head in my hands. "What game, what role, none of this is a game. My girlfriend is _in a coma_ , her child is dead. _My child_ is _dead_ , and you're telling me this was all part of a game?"

"The intention was to have you pitted against someone else. You both would be representatives. You'd be an unstoppable force; your opponent, an immovable object. To decide the fate of this world."

I laugh sardonically at her, pulling myself off my bed, "You're being overdramatic."

"I am not," she says grimly, the skin around her eyes darker than they had ever been before. "My Aspect finds his strength by the whims of the masses. But the masses are conflicted. Drawn to destruction yet seeking salvation. So he seeks to determine which of the two they prefer. Destruction and rebirth under his rule, or...rehabilitation."

"What is this, some anime?" I scoff at her. "You're pulling my leg."

"After everything you've done, you still can't believe it." Then she shakes her head. "No. You do believe it. You're just in denial, because you want nothing to do with it."

"Of course I don't," I reply simply. "Why would I, after getting involved with you?"

"Because your opponent is the one who handed you the gun to destroy your lover's Palace."

I stand up off the bed and I glare into her, trying to force her to explain further. She does.

Shaking her head, she continues, "Masayoshi Shido's son represents destruction and rebirth. You were to represent rehabilitation. But something went wrong."

"You gave me your powers," I grunt. "That's what, you—you were the one who—!"

"No. You're trying to convince yourself it wasn't your fault, but in the end you can't. Masayoshi Shido was meant as a bolster to your opponent. An aide, a platform, a stepping stone. His meeting you that day? That was fated to occur. Did it not seem so strange that someone with such a presence in politics would suddenly appear in the back end of some random alleyway, harassing some _girl_?"

"...that...was meant to happen?" I repeat. "I-I was meant to... _kill_ him?"

"You weren't, that's the beauty of it all. Masayoshi Shido's encounter with you was merely intended as a means to draw you and your opponent closer together. The man was a weak-willed pawn, deluded by himself and his grandiose desire to overtake this country. A tool for my Aspect to use as he pleased. He never expected you to have been so _damaged_."

And at that, my jaw quivers and my hands ball into fists. Sweat beads down my temple, my neck; my teeth chatter as the cold in my chest spreads out.

"This isn't my fault," I say, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. "None of this is my fault. This, I didn't _do_ this...!"

"You did."

"How could you even _know_ any of this?" I snarl at her, glaring and wanting to ram my knife through her jaw and shove it all the way up to her brain. "How would you _know_ this is what your Aspect is planning!?"

"Because if I took his place, if I desired the same things as he, that would be exactly how I would go about making it happen," she smiles. "But I do not desire the same things as he. He desires to rule, I desire to destroy. He wishes to burn the world and rule whatever's left, I desire to simply burn. He is a delusion, powered by society's subconscious. In the humans' unwillingness to save themselves from themselves, they grow numb to cruelty or to oppression, fearful to upset the established order. My Aspect seeks to control this order, for it is comprised of confused and scared and gullible lemmings that only seek their own individual satisfactions."

She continues further, seeing my agony. "You might be inclined to believe my Aspect is responsible for the distinct lack of attention you and your girlfriend are getting from the media. To be fair, you are not entirely wrong. All he's done, however, is exaggerate what is already there. In the minds of the people. In the minds of the media. Shido has been outed as a villainous figure, so a villainous figure he becomes. Those who've suffered under him are victims, and so victims they have become. And in their mad dash to know who is the villain and who is the victim, they seek individual validations from each other."

When I'm cold enough and bitter enough and angry enough to let all the memories of the hellfire come back in full force, I find it in myself to talk back again.

"So, that's it?"

"Hm?" she smiles.

"So, so...the reason Kana's in a coma, the reason her mother's dead, the reason Shido's kid did all that was because..."

"Go on, you can say it," she replies condescendingly.

"This Aspect...," I seethe, "it's powered by _people_? The whims of the masses? What does _that_ mean, even?"

"Exactly that. Humanity's desire to have all responsibility taken off its shoulders. To be ruled and harnessed by another. To have no claim to anything, to be free of the mundanity and the meaninglessness of their miserable everyday lives. My Aspect is that desire made manifest."

And I nod, "So what are _you_?"

She just smiles again.

* * *

"G'morning, sleepyhead."

When I open my eyes I find out I'm in a bed. My bed, the bed Kana broke down in. But the air smells of coffee, and the crows make their noises as they always do. I can hear wooden boards from all over the room creak into themselves and I hear the sheets shuffle. Though, I'm not the one moving around.

When another rustling noise hits me, I see her. And somehow, I don't know how, she's become even more beautiful since the last I saw her.

"Kana...?"

Her green eyes are wide and alive, and she's smiling at me, the edges of her mouth perking up over the red scarf she _still_ has around her neck. She's wearing an overcoat and some dark blue jeans and she's over me, hovering; when she leans, her lips meet my forehead and they feel real. All of this feels obscenely real. My fingers over her cheek. The frays in her scarf brushing against the side of my hand. Her hand clasping mine, over her face. Her finger on my lower lip.

The curls of her long hair waft over my fingers and the green of her eyes is filled with life, such that I've not seen out of them in ages. And it hits me. In the months I've been without her, I've forgotten her voice. I've forgotten how she sounded. How beautiful she sounded, and that laugh of hers...

This isn't right. As much as I want it to be.

"You wanna rest a couple more hours? We have a busy night ahead of us."

"What's...going on here?" I ask her. I don't want to be brusque. But I should be, I should be wondering what any of this is, I should be telling myself that this is all a vision by Nyarlathotep, and I shouldn't be so stupid to just accept it all. Her smile is irresistible. Whoever was Masako's father was stupid to have abandoned her, abandoned the both of them.

I can't be foolish. I can't be stupid. But God help me, I think I want to be.

I pull her into my arms, and she exclaims, "Whoa...!" while chuckling in her amusement.

I'm embracing her as tightly as I can, and I'm afraid that the moment I let go she'll disappear for real. I can feel her heartbeat. I can feel her arms wrapping around mine. She's stroking my hair and I can feel the vibrations in her throat when she hums. Like she's either relaxing or singing me a lullaby.

"Isn't it a little too early in the morning for this kinda stuff?" she laughs. I don't reply after a long time, but I keep her close to me. She doesn't push me away; when she feels me shudder, she asks, "Akira...?"

"Are you really here?" No. Stupid question, no. It's obvious, she's not here. This is all a dream. The nightmare she and I were in all those months ago, it was real. It had to have been. I don't care that I can feel her, that I can hear her breathe and feel her weight in my arms. Even though all the tastes and sounds and smells all feel real, I can't be so naive as to just let myself fall for it.

The monster with her topaz eyes is bound to come at me, sooner or later. I can't let my guard down.

So why do I keep on asking stupid questions? "Please," I say then, "how long will it be before...?"

She pulls herself away from me then, looking concerned. She places a hand over my forehead, "Are you feeling okay...?"

I want to pull the hand off of me, but I see her face and I'm afraid that for a moment this might just be the real thing. I tell myself again that can't be, and so when I pull her fingers from my forehead I force myself to do so. But even then, I do so gently.

"Will you...," I whisper, and she somehow hears it.

"Will I what?"

I shake my head at her. I look around the room. I get myself off of bed and I stand up. I'm wearing pajamas and so when my bare feet touch the wooden floorboards I curl up my toes to make sure the crevices and the frays of the wood feel real.

It's when my eyes reach the door that I see someone else. She's standing there, she's small, and she's looking at me and looking at Kana. She has her big brown eyes with that same wise yet childlike gaze she always had before, and she's holding on to a little plushie that looks like a hat. She's not wearing a onesie, she's wearing a small frilly dress fit for children her age, polka dots and the like. When she sees me she runs to me, and tugs on my pant leg.

That almost breaks me, makes me crumble right then and there.

I kneel down, and smile at her, deciding to indulge in all this for just a little bit. "Okay...what's that you've got there?"

She lends me the plushie that looks like a hat and I find out that it's not a hat after all, judging from the little dot at the far end of one of the edges of the supposed hat. I see a zipper on the underside, and when I unzip it I find there's a smaller stuffed elephant inside. It's the most adorable thing in the world.

And when she pulls it back from me with that bashful expression of hers, I almost start to cry.

Kana puts a finger to the edge of my eye, and I pull myself back up to face her. I look at Masako, I look at Kana, and I just want this dream to end. It's too cruel. "When are you going to leave again?" I ask absentmindedly.

"I'm not gonna leave," she assures me with a smile. "What made you think that?"

"None of this is real," I say to her, whispering now. Deciding to just let it all out. "It can't be real."

"What about this isn't real?" she asks, laughing yet at the same time letting the worry out in her eyes.

"I saw Masako die," I say bluntly, demanding now for the dream to end without outright saying it. "I saw you fall into a coma. I saw all of it."

The curse. The creature that shambled through a burning world, releasing nuclear wave after nuclear wave. A nightmare to end everything. Everyone around me, melting and suffering and burning and dying. A gun in my hands. The Wolf walking away, letting me destroy her. Kana in a hospital bed, unconscious and forgotten by everyone. Except me. Except the guy who destroyed everything.

I don't deserve to see her, even in a dream.

But she pulls me in and kisses me. Her hands are cupping my face, and it all feels too real to ignore. Everything is happening right here, and right now, in the real world. None of it is illusory or fake, it's all something I can feel and taste and embrace with everything I am and everything I have. When she pulls away I lean forward a little because I want it again, I want to do so much more. It's maddening, it's insane, it's horrifying but I know that even if this has to be a dream I don't want to let it end.

She gave everything to me. "All I did was..."

"Hey, it was just a bad dream, that's all. I'm right here, Masako's right here. You have nothing to be afraid of," she says. Then she sees the worry in my eyes, takes my hands and reassures me, "We're alive."

No. No you're not.

When the days would pass, I would wake up every morning and I would look forward to hanging out with Kana, and then I would remember we can't. I would remember Masako and think about reading another chapter of the book to her, but I would remember she's in the ground. Kana's comatose state and Masako's death; my memories of these cannot be the result of dreams, but of events that have actually taken place. I was there, I saw it all happen. None of this can be real.

"Stop it," I shudder.

"Akira, what...?"

"I said _stop_ , please," I beg her. "You can't do this to me, I know this is a lie."

"I don't understand, Akira wait—"

I grab her by the shoulders, "Please stop this, I—I can't—this isn't...!" I then stop shaking her, and I glare at her. I glare at her and the way I glare at her you'd think I'd want her dead.

"A-Akira...!" she pleads. "Wh-what's wrong—!?"

"Get out of my house. You and—" I'm about to call Masako something unforgivable, but I relent when I see her face. "You both, get out now. Never come back. Never _ever_ come back."

"Akira, _please_!" she begs as I begin pushing her out, Masako tugging at my pant leg and beginning to cry. "What's going on, _talk_ to me, please...!"

"Get out, _get out of my house!_ "

Before I know it, we're at the front door and I'm pushing her so hard she falls down the steps and hits her nose on the pavement. She screams a terrible scream I don't ever want to hear from Kana, so I force myself to push Masako out as well. Masako doesn't fall flat on her face, and she doesn't trip as she runs to her mother and cries. She cries as she holds her, cries into her shoulder as Kana turns—

—and I force myself to shut the door on them both before I can see Kana's eyes.

Kana slams her fist on my door. Calls my name. She's not angry, she's not upset, she's despairing. She's asking why I'm doing this, what she did wrong, what she can do to fix it. Begging me to talk to her, to see her, to please _please_ let her know what's going on with me and how she can help. She just wants to help, she doesn't want to see me hurt.

She says she knows I'm hurting behind the door. She says she knows I wouldn't just do this for no good reason. She says she loves me, and that she wants to be there for me like I was there for her. She's begging me. She's begging me. She's crying so loudly, and every time her fists pound on the door I feel a thousand lead weights being dropped on my chest.

But in the end none of it matters at all.

When the pounding stops, everything stays silent for a long time. I stay slumped against the door for an hour or so before I mutter out, "No, wait."

Before I know it, I get out the door and I run. Of course, when I get out the door and run, it's snowing. Just as it did the day I met her.

I run as fast as my legs can carry me. My eyes burn against the snow. My heart races as I force my weak feet to continue charging ahead. I ignore the coldness of my breath and the numbness in my fingers. My lungs grow and shrink at an unimaginable rate, and the speed at which I dash is something I believed I'd never be able to do on my own.

Nothing matters. Nothing matters except getting to Kana. Even with the exhaustion creeping into me. My shoulders are beginning to tire. My thighs and legs are slowing. I run a distance of what I assume to be ten blocks before tripping up on the sidewalk, my nose slamming against the icy pavement as I cry out a loud yelp in pain. Despite myself—despite my now-bleeding nose and my tired, frail body—I can't let myself give up. Not so easily. Not like this.

I stagger to my feet and press on, wiping the cold blood from my nose as I pick up speed yet again. I ignore how slippery the sidewalk is. I ignore it completely.

But of course, I never find them. I search every corner of every street. Every person I meet, I ask if they've seen her and her daughter. I go into convenience stores, into shopping malls, into apartment complexes, into _schools_ and I search and I search and I plead with God for her to be in the next building if I can't find her in the one I'm already in.

I never do. I never do.

They're nowhere.

Soon, I'm on the news, begging people for assistance. Soon, I'm plastering _Wanted_ posters on electrical poles. Soon, I'm begging my father to hire someone to search for them. Soon, Goro Akechi comes into the mix, and I beg him to help me, I tell him that all the riches I have mean nothing if she's not with me. Soon I see him again, on the road.

Him. Him and his black helm, swathed in dark.

I chase him when he runs and I plan to do all sorts of terrible things to him. I want him dead and I want to know where he's keeping Masako and Kana. When I reach him I grab him and slam his head against the pavement and the bevor and visor crack and shatter and I punch him, I stab him, I torture him right there in the middle of the street. I mangle him, I dismember him, I disembowel him, I make him suffer a pain I hope he continues suffering even while he burns forever in Hell.

And when I remove his helm and move to cut off his head, I see that his face is mine—

* * *

—and I fall to my knees, in my room, right in front of the girl with golden eyes—the one called Nyarlathotep.

"Please don't leave me," I beg to someone who isn't here. "Please don't leave me."

"Trust me," she says, wrapping her arms over my shoulders and facing me with a smile you'd give to a naive child, "I won't ever leave you. We'll both do such wondrous things together."

With that, I don't speak for a long time. I hunch forward in my bed, glaring at the ground like it had wronged me. And everything starts coming back. The burning buildings, the wretched revenants burning in nuclear flame. The accursed creature, the amalgam of beasts, wandering aimlessly and spouting fire. The elderly infant crawling out of her mother's torn belly, weeping at a blood-red sky.

And the monster responsible for destroying them both.

But perhaps there is not just one monster responsible for it all. There are so many more. Enough to fill a whole world. Enough to create the greatest monster of them all, one who viewed me as a participant in a game. Perhaps this madness, this is all what it would be to them. A game.

I know then, that as much as I want it to be over, that the game is only just beginning.

* * *

April 9, 20XX.

"Right. They said that was today..."

I am in a coffee shop known as _Leblanc_. The shop is empty, though a craggily man with black hair slicked all the way back and a thick chin curtain lays down a series of newspapers on the counter as he makes his way over to me. The man sizes me up cautiously and I do not take offense. My father must have told him about my circumstances, after all. "So...you're Akira," he then says to me.

I ask him, "You're Sakura-san?" to which he nods.

"Yes. You'll be in my custody over the next year." He then smirks somewhat, shaking his head as he exhales through his nose, "You've grown, kid."

"You know of me?" I ask him.

"Well, your dad and I go back a ways...," he says to me. "When I last saw you, you'd barely grown out of diapers."

"...if I may, what's your relationship with my father?" I ask Sakura-san.

He sighs, "Long story short, your dad knew me from back when I worked in government. Though my career didn't last very long, he and I remained close. Even when I told him I decided to run a coffee shop...," he scratches his head. "So when he called me up to help you out, I couldn't just say no. That, and...he'd already sent the money into my bank account, by the time he called."

I nod then, "I see," before bowing. "Please take care of me."

"No need to be so formal," he says, patting my shoulder. The gesture is meant less as a show of informality and more as a way to get my attention. "Now...follow me. I'll take you up to your room."

The both of us head up the stairs, and when we reach the attic I find the place actually feels quite homely. It's a wide space, there's barely any clutter, and though there's dust in the corners and on the walls, it could be so much worse. For one thing, there's a bed in the upper-right corner of the room and a couch to my left. Two places to recline if I ever get one of those days where I'd like to just _lie down_. There are two tables on each side of the couch, and there's a shelf right next to the bed.

A simple arrangement. And that's all I can ever ask for. He must know of what I've done to Masayoshi Shido, and yet he was willing to take me in after all that. I'm grateful that I at least have a place to rest my head.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," I say to him, bowing again.

"What'd I say?" he asks me. "Look. Your dad's already filled me in on the situation. You're taking on your mother's maiden name in school, right?"

"Kurusu, yes," I nod.

"So. From this point on, you'd better keep your head down. Draw too much attention to yourself, and there's a chance you might get kicked out of your new school. Behave yourself, pick your friends wisely, and don't get dragged into other people's issues. As long as you keep a low profile here, you and I won't have any trouble."

"I understand."

"You'd _better_ ," he grunts, hiking up his pants. "Your probation's gonna last 'til next spring. Cause any problems, you may end up landing yourself into juvie." He shakes his head again, his hands resting on his hips, "Your dad had to pull a lot of strings to make this happen..."

I nod simply, "I see."

After a long period of silence, he then makes his way over to the stairs, and he says, "I'm gonna close up shop when evening comes around. You'll be alone at night, but you'll have to remain indoors for the first few months. We'll head to Shujin tomorrow. Introduce ourselves properly to the staff."

"Yes sir," I say politely.

He gives me a tired look, and then disappears from my sight as he gets himself down the stairs. Leaving me here to mull over recent events. I take a look at the box of my belongings and I set them aside for now.

I take a look at my phone. The red icon that looks like an eye is still in it, still blazing brightly; like it's begging me to use it. I'm this close to throwing it away. Phones are cheap. And the icon won't go in the trash bin no matter how many times I try dragging it there. But I could always ignore it. It'd be a waste to throw a cellphone away just 'cause of one app.

It'd win, if I threw it away. _She'd_ win. If I threw it away.

Or she might just put the app in the next phone I'll buy.

I haven't heard her voice or seen her face in months, and I don't want to. I don't want any trace of her inside my head. I'd sooner blast my brains out with a revolver than catch sight of her in my life ever again. I don't want to see her topaz eyes or that decayed world she lives in.

I then remember the most important thing I'm carrying in my bag. I place the picture frame on the shelf next to my bed, arranging it such that it'll be the first thing my eyes catch the moment I wake up.

Then I recline in my bed, pulling my sheets over myself. I don't concern myself with changing clothes, it's not that warm anyway. And besides, I should rest up most of all. Big day tomorrow, introducing myself to staff who'll probably be very pleased to know they're letting a killer in their student body.

Akira Kurusu. My mother's maiden name is now going to be my surname from this day forward. As long as I remember my new name, no harm will come to me or my caretaker or Kana. If the school releases my record to the students, they'll face the wrath of the judiciary system and my father's lawyers.

Akira Kurusu. All I have to do is remember my name.

I am not a killer. I am not the vessel of an eldritch abomination. I am not the son of Soichiro Kanzaki. I am Akira Kurusu, and I am a simple high school student.

Maybe the day will come when I'll be able to believe that lie, as well.

My name is Akira Kurusu.

My name is Akira Kurusu.

My name. Is Akira. Kurusu. I'm nothing. I'm nobody.

I just want to live.

* * *

 _ **author's notes:**_

 **Removed the original chapter here, simply because it told too much. The original chapter was a recreation of the opening _in medias res_ scene at Sae's Palace, with a few changes in character placement of course; but I realized that if I wanted to take this story in a direction that was completely my own, I couldn't do so with so much of the plot having already been predicted.**

 **So I'm doing away with _in medias res_ right now and going right for a full-on story played out straight with a beginning, middle, and end.**


	13. Chapter I, I

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

There is a dream Makoto Niijima has, from time to time. A dream born from all the news outlets, the stories, the various smiles on the faces of scum.

In the dream she holds a gun. In the dream, she has red eyes. She doesn't stop, in the dream, and she doesn't want to. She pulls the trigger and she keeps pulling, her revolver never running out of bullets. Every single blast hits someone and hits them hard. Makoto sees them writhe, hears them scream. All the drug addicts, all the murderers, the psychos, the rapists, the cancers that litter the streets and get away with it. She sees their grins fade as cold reality bursts in their chests. Nobody's able to escape her bullets, nobody wants to save each other or protect each other. All they can do and all they want to do is run and hide and live.

They bring in choppers, she shoots them all down. Tanks fire at her, and their missiles barely even scratch her skin. Soldiers come in, sent by the powerful and the corrupt, sent to stop her from fulfilling her mission. Then the people, the lowly ones who've spent their whole lives with their heads down, they decide to take up their own weapons. They come at her back and they scream for justice as they start shooting and fighting tooth-and-nail. Ecstatic rage, a catharsis that can't ever be replicated in any form.

And sooner or later Makoto and her armies take the whole country by storm. Sooner or later the dream ends. Her sister doesn't know, and wouldn't like to know, that the time Makoto doesn't spend studying is time she spends reading up on criminals. Her sister's a prosecutor; it'd be strange if Makoto herself didn't catch wind of criminal activity in at least some fashion.

Makoto knows it's _just_ a dream. She knows she'll never be able to pull something like that off, in any fashion. Not in the real world. And sometimes it even scares her, how easily her thoughts drift to that dark area she's really good at hiding away from the rest of the world. But can anyone blame her? Day in and day out, even when she's not reading up on her sister's files, she hears it on the news, she sees it on the internet, she looks at how many people laugh and make their jokes because they're not the victims.

 _Man Rapes and Kills Three-Year Old_ , _Teen Mother Sells Child For Heroin_ , _Man Accused of Pedophilia Off On Bail_ , _Sex-Trafficking Ring Exposed and Brought Down, Over 300 Suspects_ , all these things she just _hears and sees and reads_ and it eats at her. It eats at her, eats at the country, and it'll never stop. Because of course it won't, crime can't _stop_. People won't _stop_ being cruel to each other, because people are people. The statement, _There's No Such Thing as a Snuff_ _Film_ , is a lie. Because the moment someone thought up the idea, the moment it got passed around in circulation, somebody did it.

Sometimes Makoto just wants to break the whole world. To grab it in her hands and crush everything and everyone in it, just reach up into Heaven and rip out a sword of blazing fire, scorching the whole planet and weeding out all the monsters she sees. It must be crazy to dream these kinds of things, crazy to want to _do that_ to all the evil in this messed-up country. But really, is it crazy to want to kill everyone in the world responsible for making it so _horrible_ sometimes? Is it crazy when you don't?

Her father would know. Her father always knew.

So when Makoto goes to sleep this evening, she thinks she'll wake up and she'll hear the same things over the news again when she goes on the train on the way to Shujin. She thinks she'll continue to live out the rest of her high school days as student council president, then go to a prestigious college, then live out the rest of her days relatively well-off.

But this night is not like other nights.

* * *

 **\- SECTION I -  
"The night is waning...and it is almost time for the game to begin."  
**

* * *

Makoto awakens in a room she's never been to before. There are heavy and freezing steel binds wrapped around both of her wrists, a lengthy weight between the two binds. The room has to be -49°C; she can't help but shiver and shudder as she stands herself up. She's in a prison cell padded with soft, yet firm, ultramarine. The moment she tries moving, she discovers that her left ankle is trapped in a ball-and-chain.

"What...?" she murmurs as she stares at the chains binding her limbs.

She moves forward then, gripping the bars of her cell. When she reaches the bars, two little girls wearing blue emerge from Makoto's right and left. Both of them, in terms of facial features, look exactly alike. But the one to Makoto's right wears her silver hair in buns while the other wears a braid. The twins inch close to each other, keeping a parallel distance of two feet, and they maintain still expressions as they gaze at Makoto with their topaz eyes.

Then the lights flicker on. The dark and damp world beyond the cell brightens and Makoto finds that the cell she is in is but one of many, arranged in a circle. In the center of all these cells sits an old man with wide, bulging eyes. The man is a short hunchback wearing a tuxedo, and his nose is about as long as Makoto's arm. He is sitting at a simple desk, one Makoto would often see in those crime dramas she always watches in secret—the desk of a police commissioner. He smiles when his eyes meet Makoto's, and he speaks with a booming voice that's so loud she could swear he's speaking directly into her ears even though he's three meters away.

"Trickster," he tells Makoto, "welcome to my Velvet Room."

Then Makoto hears an aria. Wistful and impersonal, one that chills her to the bone. She repeats what the man's said, "T-Trickster...?" in her inability to comprehend just what kind of _world_ she's entered.

"Looks like you've come to, Inmate," says the girl with buns in her hair.

"The _you_ in reality is currently fast asleep," says the girl with the braid.

Then the girl with buns in her hair orders, "Stand up straight! You're in the presence of our Master!"

"Wh-what is this—!?" Makoto exclaims, realizing she's wearing a striped long-sleeved shirt and striped pajamas, like you're a prisoner—

The long-nosed old man sitting in a chair then says to her, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those bound by a _contract_ may enter. Remember it well. I am Igor, the master of this place."

"Wh-what am I doing here!?" Makoto demands, gripping the bars. Sweat beads down the side of her head as her eyes remain wide and her teeth begin to chatter. Too many unanswered questions, too many things she's never seen before. _This has to be a dream_ , she reasons, but then she sees everything and smells everything and hears all the sounds around her and it's all too _real_ to be a dream.

"I summoned you to speak of important matters—matters that involve your life, and the lives of those around you," Igor continues.

"What...what are you talking about...?" Makoto mutters in her fear. Not knowing what this old creature plans to do with her, not knowing anything behind all of this. Then a mild electric jolt runs along the bars and Makoto removes her fingers, letting out a bit of a scream.

She sees the girl on her right, sees that she's now wielding an electric baton. The girl is glaring madly at Makoto, ordering her again, "Know your place, Inmate! Who do you think you're talking to!?"

It's at this point Makoto decides to calm down a little, take a few deep breaths, and listen. She's helpless, as she is.

 _Look around you, you're in a padded cell; as if the chains 'round your wrists and ankle aren't enough._ _They've got weapons, they can hurt you at any time if you step out of line. Just stay calm and wait._

"Still, this is a surprise...," says Igor, looking around. "This Room is a reflection of the state of your own heart...to think a prison would appear as such." Makoto wrenches her head around the place, unable to even begin to comprehend how this prison is a reflection of her heart. "You truly are a _prisoner of fate,_ " Igor grins. "In the near future, there's no mistake that ruin awaits you."

To which of course, Makoto says, " _Ruin_? Fate, future, _prisons_...what does any of this mean? What are you telling me? Why am I here?"

"I speak of the end of everything," he says simply. "However, there is a means to oppose such a fate. If you are willing to pursue the path of rehabilitation, that is."

"Rehabilitation...?" Makoto realizes at this point that she's largely just repeating everything he's saying, but she can't help it. Words and terms and entire dream-worlds are being thrown at her endlessly. Who can blame her for trying to make some sense of it all?

"Rehabilitation, towards freedom. That is the only way to avoid ruin. Another was meant to take your place, but he has thrown his lot in with a force that may very well bring ruin all on its own. Having been left with no other option, I chose you to succeed him, for he failed his mission even before it had properly begun."

"Who...who are you talking about?" Makoto asks him, deciding to save all her questions about literally _everything else_ for another time.

"You will know of him soon enough," he smiles. "Conflict between you both is inevitable. You seek justice for this world, do you not?"

At that, Makoto doesn't respond. Because he hit the nail right on the head and she doesn't want to give too much of herself away.

"You see everything in this world, all the injustices that won't ever seem to end...," he chuckles.

"Injustice...," Makoto repeats him, _again she repeats_ him because she's afraid, but also because the word itself is something she can't help but be agitated by.

"In challenging the distortion of the world—in challenging ruin, you may yet rescue yourself from your fate, and bring salvation to this plane of existence. Allow me to observe the path of your rehabilitation." Then the two girls step forward and turns to face Makoto, in unison. To which Igor says then, "Pardon me for not introducing your wardens; to your right is Caroline. To your left, Justine."

"Try and struggle as hard as you'd like," Caroline declares, the baton behind her back as she keeps up her glare.

Justine's voice is calmer and cooler, and she tells Makoto, "It is the duty of wardens to protect inmates. We are also your collaborators. That is, if you remain obedient."

Igor then says, "I shall explain the roles of these two on another occassion. Take your time to slowly understand this place. The night is waning...and it is almost time for the game to begin. We shall meet again...eventually."

"Wait, _wait_!" Makoto exclaims. "What's going _on_ here? What _game_ are you talking about? What kind of _ruin is_ —!?"

An alarm rings. Caroline turns to Makoto. "Time's up. Hurry and go back to sleep."

"I'm not going to sleep until I get some answers—!"

And then she awakens, in a cold sweat.

Shivering. Terrified. She holds herself and she holds herself close. She keeps her sheets close to her, and she decides to never ever tell her sister about this. That...must have been a dream. Must have been some sort of strange and stupid _fever dream_ she had overnight. She won't ever have it again. She can't. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

She doesn't know why she's more scared of that dream than of that _other_ dream, the dream where she kills every single living criminal in the world and rules over it and ushers in an age of peace. Perhaps it's because of all that talk of ruin, rehabilitation, and they who may _bring_ ruin. It was stupid, it was all stupid.

 _How could you save the world? How could you help prevent injustice from spreading? You're just one girl._

The world is the world...and people are people. Makoto Niijima can't change them. Not in any capacity. To do so...she doesn't have that kind of power. She doesn't even have that kind of right. She's just...

 _You're nobody. You're nothing. How can you save the world?_

* * *

 **author's notes:**

There's a _reason_ I've switched Akira's surname out at the moment. It's pivotal to the plot, don't worry. And now, Makoto's the resident Wild Card of the Phantom Thieves! Boy, things're gonna be awkward between her and Akira, this point on...

Hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the delays!

 **edit 7/29/17  
Fixed some dialogue and narration that I felt would have fit more in the characters' personalities. And turned the narration to 3rd person, as per reviews have requested.**


	14. Chapter I, II

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

Though it's been a measly few days since that dream, Makoto still can hear that old man's voice in her ears. She can still feel the chill of the prison cells running over her skin. The cold of the bars hasn't left her hands in any way, and she fears that perhaps it wasn't _just_ a dream after all.

So when she heads out into the street, heads out for her first day in school to help take her mind off of things, it rains first thing in the morning. And she's forgotten her umbrella too, because _of course_ she has. Though, to be fair, she _did_ read the weather forecasts and they said that it'd be bright and sunny today...

She's now underneath a canopy, trying to wait out the storm. The rain is harsher than she'd like it to be. She'd probably get sick in her attempts to make a dash for the school. And it's not like she can't spare _one_ late homeroom session; it may set a bad example for the students, but it's not like the students pay _that much_ attention to classroom politics anyway. She's more scared of what Sis may tell her, really.

 _You forgot your umbrella again? she'd say_ , _arms folded and with a scowl on her face._ _How can you be so absent-minded sometimes?_

Makoto looks up at the rain and she figures that while it's not necessarily _light_ , it's not that heavy either. She can probably make it into the school grounds without getting _too_ wet, if she's careful and quick enough.

She brings up her phone because she wants to check the time, but the moment she taps in her password she discovers that something strange has seeped its way into her grid of apps. Something red and black, something that resembles an eye.

She doesn't recall ever seeing it before. She doesn't even really download any apps, save ones that'd help her in her studies in some way. But the moment her finger hovers over it, the moment she makes an attempt to drag it into the digital trash bin at the bottom of the screen, it enlarges in a way she's never seen apps enlarge ever before.

When it enlarges she sees the red and black eye blare open and then the world just _stops_.

She lifts her head to see that the raindrops have paused mid-descent. The people she sees are frozen in space and looking completely unaware of it. Sound has disappeared from the world entirely. She is looking around, hoping to find someone who's moving, who's alive, who's not trapped in time. Makoto doesn't understand what is happening. But she's got to stay calm. _Freaking out about this won't help anyone, least of all yourself._

This shouldn't be possible, but here she is, moving while the rest of the world is standing still. A number of impossible things has happened to her these past few days, she realizes; and then the app flares up even more, then Makoto lifts her head to the street and she sees something bright and blue and blazing and beautiful.

In the blazing fire, she sees something, a shape she recognizes all too well. She's been allured by it time and again, she's pushed thoughts of the shape away from her conscious mind because _what right does she have_ as the student council president to even think of having that. But the shape revs its motor and grinds its wheels against the gravel of the road, she sees a blue face watching her, looking right at her.

Makoto asks it its name, and it says _Yours_ , as she suddenly sees herself smiling so wide her cheeks'll fall off, her eyes a burning gold color—

—then everybody's walking again. And the world continues on, like nothing ever even happened.

It is at this point where Makoto Niijima meets me, Akira Kurusu, for the first time.

* * *

 **\- SECTION II -  
** **"Have you decided to tread the path of strife...?"**

* * *

A man with glasses is now standing next to Makoto, and she sees him lowering his bag from his head. He wipes the rain off his shoulders as Makoto takes a look at him, eyeing him carefully. She sees he's wearing a Shujin uniform and she deduces he is a transfer student, since she's not seen him in the student roster before. Makoto's not too keen on talking to him, though; the look he has in his eyes is enough to tell her he doesn't really want to talk to anybody, either.

The both of them just stand there and say nothing, as the rain continues to pour _down, down, down._

Before the silence can get too awkward, there's a third person who comes under the canopy; judging by her figure, she's a woman. She stands next to Makoto as she pulls the hood down from her head, exposing her light-blonde hair and her brilliant blue eyes.

She is someone Makoto can't help but recognize as, "Takamaki-san...?"

Takamaki turns to Makoto and nods, "Niijima-senpai," before facing the road again.

Everything falls silent once more.

Cars and people pass them by along the road, and one of those cars catches Makoto's attention. The car's moving at _just_ the right pace, and when it stops it stops right in front of them all. Rolling down the window of the passenger's seat is an older man with long black hair, and a grin. He leans forward, asking Takamaki of all people, "Hey, you need a lift?"

Takamaki is wary of him. Makoto can see it in her eyes, but nevertheless the girl remarks, "Sure. Thank you very much."

The man is smiling, though Makoto doesn't sense anything other than a pervading wariness herself. She recognizes him as her gym teacher, Suguru Kamoshida, and wonders why he's being so jovial especially towards Takamaki; Makoto recalls rumors that she'd rather not remember.

Kamoshida then asks Makoto and the man to her left, "You both need a lift?"

Makoto half-smiles and shakes her hand, "I'll be alright."

The man to her left just shakes her head in the negative.

Kamoshida shrugs, "Alright, suit yourselves."

When Takamaki gets in the car, Makoto sees a frustrated glint in her blue eyes, one that gets obscured by the window rolling back up.

And then the car drives away.

Makoto's eyes sharpen and her nose scrunches up in anger, but she decides not to intrude on anything. Then she and the man at her side hear footsteps coming from Makoto's right; someone's running, but he's not running very quickly. By the time he gets to Makoto, he's staring at the tail end of the car that's just passed by, and he's grunting out something about a _pervy teacher_ with a tone of disgust.

Makoto and the man with glasses stare at him curiously as the former's phone buzzes with a mechanical voice, drawing her attention to it. The mechanical voice repeats the statement _Pervy Teacher_ and translates it—

 _Palace Owner Confirmed_

—into a name Makoto recognizes all too well.

 _Palace Owner: Suguru Kamoshida  
Palace Location:  
Palace Distortion:_

The other terms, Makoto doesn't understand. And she honestly isn't really interested in trying to understand them. The person next to her doesn't see what is on her phone, so he is unable to save her from the horrors she's about to unleash upon herself.

In confusion, the man with glasses repeats what the runner just said: "Pervy teacher...?" Makoto is too busy trying to figure out just what on earth has been happening to her these past few days to notice the running man walking over now.

The running man has yellow hair and brown eyes, his eyebrows short and sharp and black. He's wearing a yellow shirt with a printed star design underneath his open Shujin blazer, and he has suspenders hanging from his hips. When he gets over to the man with glasses, he grunts, "What, you plannin' on rattin' me out to Kamoshida?"

He doesn't know who Kamoshida is, so of course he asks in response, "Who?"

The vulgar boy looks at him, half-wary, as he says, "Guy driving that car, _that_ was Kamoshida." He then smirks bitterly, rambling quietly then, mostly to himself.

Guy with glasses blinks at him as Makoto turns to the both of them, unaware that her phone's been recording everything that's been said.

Guy with glasses replies to him, "I don't really have an opinion."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" he asks. "You're saying you don't know Kamoshida? You for real? You're from Shujin, right?"

"Transfer student."

Blinks. "Oh. Makes sense, then...you a second year?" Guy with glasses nods. "We're in the same grade."

"And that Kamoshida is...?"

Blonde guy huffs, "Shujin's PE teacher, coach of the volleyball team. He does whatever he wants...," he then folds his arms, staring ahead at the rest of the road. "You'd better be careful. Guy thinks of himself as the king of a castle, really...that sounds like an exaggeration, but you get on his bad side, you'll see it in full—"

"What's this about a 'king of a castle?'" Makoto then cuts in.

The blonde young man looks at her and he cringes. Recognizes Makoto, acknowledges her status as student council president. She eyes him carefully as he suddenly then says, "A-anyway...," before stretching out his hand to the sky, "rain ain't too bad now. We'd better hurry up, or we'll be late."

So the blonde man walks forward with Makoto and the transfer student in tow. Though nothing _criminal_ has happened yet, Makoto watches both of the boys with her carefully the whole walk to school. She doesn't hear the next few sounds blare out in her phone, though.

 _Palace Location and Distortion Confirmed_

Then Makoto and the blonde-haired man keel over a little in their steps, the world trembling in their brains. While the man with glasses stands perfectly still. Watching it happen.

The blonde man grunts as he clutches at his head, "Oh, man..."

So Glasses asks, "You okay?"

"It's nothin'," he says. "Just feeling a little light-headed, is all...," he then mutters out a curse as he whines, "I wanna go home already..."

Makoto stares at the backs of the two men walking right in front of her and she makes sure to keep herself silent.

She knows the man with dyed hair; Ryuji Sakamoto. Rowdy delinquent, doesn't have a lot of friends (if he has any at all). Used to serve as a member of Shujin's track team. Complications arose between him and Kamoshida, complications she's heard and admittedly are doubtful of, which resulted in the track team's dissolution and Sakamoto's isolation from pretty much everyone in school. So he's immediately a person of concern already.

But the transfer student is someone Makoto may-slash-may not recognize. She recalls her sister talking about a certain case she needed to stay out a number of nights on; ended last winter, she lost the prosecution. Makoto recalls this because she remembers how utterly aggravated Sis was with it all; apparently the SIU director was really getting on her case for some reason.

The trial in question was centered around the heir of a certain Japanese corporation that had ties to rather high forms of government. Apparently, this heir was responsible for the killing of a government official, but was let off on justifiable homicide. Said government official had, according to the records, attempted to rape a young girl, and as such was killed to defend her.

Makoto hasn't gotten a very good look at him, but there's something about the transfer student that looks familiar, something she's seen in the articles published online about the case, pictures involving the primary suspect in the killing.

But before Makoto can even come to any conclusions, she bumps into his back. She's about to call him out for suddenly stopping in the middle of the road. But then she sees what he and the blonde-haired man are looking at.

There is a castle in front of the three of them now. A gaudy, extremely large castle founded on black brick. It glows and glitters like gold, and it looks like something that's come straight from some stupid storybook. It is tall enough to host three entire schools, and looking at it straight down the middle makes it completely fill up Makoto's point of view.

This is all wrong.

"We didn't...," Sakamoto begins, looking behind him as he continues, "come the wrong way, though. The sign _was_ for the school...wasn't it?" Sakamoto continues.

"Yes...it was...," Makoto says. Taken aback by the sight of this castle as well. "This should be right..."

There's something hitting her, throbbing at her chest, stabbing her brains.

But Makoto sees the transfer student and his legs are frozen in place. He looks like he's struggling to breathe, like he can't move, like he's a prisoner in his own body, and then he suddenly says, "We need to get out of here," half-aware of himself, "and never come back."

But before Makoto knows it the blonde-haired man is walking into the castle grounds himself, past both her and the transfer student and she don't know what it means. The transfer student's now running after Sakamoto and he's trying to grab him, trying to get him back. And the transfer student doesn't hear Makoto calling out to the both of them, he doesn't hear her saying, "W-wait!" as she follows him right into the castle's halls.

* * *

She is coming to, slowly.

Makoto hears faint words from _somewhere_ , someone calling her. When she musters the strength to open her eyes, she finds Sakamoto over her, asking her, "Prez, you okay...?"

Makoto nods a little, her head blistering with pain. She tries to recount what's happened to her, and though her skull throbs she can see images fading in and out. Sakamoto's arm being grabbed at by the transfer student. Something lumbering, large, silver; it clinks and clanks and when it reaches the transfer student and Sakamoto things turn dark again. Sakamoto and the transfer student are being apprehended and she's trying to get them out of there herself.

Instead of being out of the castle, she's now inside a dingy cell. Her hand's touching something wet and she doesn't really want to know what it is; though she's sure she'll get an infection. Room is dark and damp and musty, but she sees bars leading to the outside. She sits herself up and asks, "Sakamoto...are you alright...?"

"I-I'm fine," he stammers, "but how're you doing? You got squashed by one o' their shields..."

Makoto holds her head and her neck and her back, everything on her broken at least a little. But she raises her hand up as she clutches her guts, "W-we need to find a way out of here..."

"Been searching this place for the last few minutes," says Sakamoto. "Can't find anything that I think'd help us escape..."

"Where's...the...," she grunts, "the other one, the person who was with...us..."

"That, I don't know," he replies, scratching at his head, "he must've been locked up someplace away from us...," and then he scratches more vigorously, until he just rips his hand off his head and shouts, "Where are we...!?" before running to the bars and shouting more. "Hey! Let us outta here! I know there's someone out there!" All the while, he's banging on the steel and Makoto's agitated because she's got a massive headache she knows won't leave any time soon.

But then he stops. Then Makoto tears her head up. She runs to him, she clutches the bars along with him as his jaw begins to quiver. She and he both hear them, hear the screams that'll never end, screams that sound so young and alive. They are screams of children; perhaps their age, perhaps younger. They sound like hot oil's being cast all over their bodies, like their backs are getting flayed and their legs are getting crushed by morning stars.

Sakamoto's muttering something under his breath about how _this can't be happening_ , his hands are shaking at the bars and Makoto's breathing faster, heavier, more frequently—even though her lungs hurt _so much_ for every breath she takes. She needs to find some way to get herself and Sakamoto and the transfer student out of this mess, but she doesn't know _how,_ she's stuck in a steel cage what is she gonna do what is she gonna do.

 _Makoto Niijima, get it together._

She looks around the room, looks for any crack in the wall she can possibly break open. Anything she can fashion into something like a key. She finds nothing, so she becomes desperate enough to think about booting the rusty hinges of the gate, but she remembers she's wearing _heels_ —

Then she hears lumbering steel again. She sees large masses marching towards her, their bodies making their metallic noises as their armor sets clatter against themselves. When they come across the cell door, Makoto sees clearly that they are knights. But she's never seen knights twice her size, she doesn't recall ever seeing blades as sharp as the ones they have so _close_ , she doesn't know how they can breathe through their face masks.

 _ **"No one's allowed to do as they please, not in**_ **my _castle..."_**

She sees someone walking in from behind all the knights, and the moment this person comes in the knights make way for him. He is wearing a red king's cape with cartoonish pink hearts sewn all over it, and he has virtually nothing underneath save a pink pair of underwear (she can't even she doesn't even want to see it); he's barefoot and he's got a simple golden crown perched atop his head.

He is a tall man, he is a familiar man, one whom Makoto recognizes as a member of the faculty in her school, one whom she's heard of in rumors and stories about his _exploits_ with some of the members of the volleyball team. The only difference she can spot in terms of facial features is the fact that his normally-black eyes have now turned a fiery topaz.

"Kamoshida...?" Sakamoto mutters, unable to believe the sight himself.

And Kamoshida keeps talking, _**"I thought it was some petty thief, but to think it'd be**_ **you _, Sakamoto...are you trying to disobey me again? Looks like you haven't learned your lesson at all."_**

Sakamoto's hands tighten 'round the bars as his teeth clench. Makoto's heard about him and Kamoshida, about their falling out; and she's none too pleased with herself, because it seems Kamoshida's testimony that it was all in _self-defense_ might not have been true after all _and it was happening all under her nose_ —

 _ **"And you brought a friend, this time. Still can't do anything for yourself, huh?"**_ he chuckles, before turning to Makoto. She knows the look he has in his eyes when his pupils meet hers, she's seen it before on trains and on bus rides and she's _revolted_ , but she glares him down all the same. _**"Makoto Niijima...you know, I had my eye on you for a while, now. But to think that Shujin's student council president partakes in breaking and entering..."**_

She grits her teeth and she _knows_ there's nothing she can say, lest he have the both of them beheaded on the spot. But Sakamoto doesn't seem to care much, considering that he then yells, "This ain't funny, you sick—!"

 _ **"Is that how you speak to a king!?"**_ Kamoshida roars, not even giving Sakamoto a _chance_ to talk, _**"You don't understand the position you're in at all...not only did you sneak into my castle, you committed the crime of insulting me** **—the**_ **king** _ **!"**_ And then he smiles, he smiles a wide smile that's too wide for a human's face to make, _**"The punishment for that...is death."**_ Then he addresses the guards and tells them, _**"Remove him from his cage and have him executed at once!"**_

And once the knights encroach upon the cage, Sakamoto shirks back and can only plead, "S-stop it...!"

Before Makoto knows it, the knights are in the cage with her and Sakamoto but they're all facing the latter. Their blades have been brandished and they're looming over him and they're gonna do all sorts of things to him with the swords they've got in their football-sized hands.

Sakamoto's up against the wall now and Makoto has to do something but all she really can do is yell "Stop it!" while trying to rush in and perhaps _grab him outta there you don't know!_

But she can't do such a thing, because before she attempts to make her dash, Sakamoto's already _rammed_ himself into one of the guards. Sending a knight fully-clad in _steel armor_ to the ground. "I ain't down for this!" he exclaims, rubbing at his now-aching shoulder and head as he tells her, "Come on! We're—!"

But then there's another two guards, he remembers. One of the knights has hit Sakamoto's guts with the hilt of its blade, causing him to immediately keel over in his pain. Sakamoto tries to stand then, but all he can do is puke out some spit while he clutches his stomach and kneels. It's at this point Makoto tries again to run to him and get him out of dodge before they stab him or perforate him or quarter him or do whatever they're gonna do with their swords, but the knights' large bodies block her path and she can't just _push_ them aside—

"Just _run_!" Sakamoto cries out in desperation. "Get outta here...! These guys're serious!"

It's at this point Kamoshida looks at Makoto and he laughs, _**"This'll be rich. Not only is the student council president a crook, but also a coward. What a heartless friend you are..."**_

 _She wants to kill him so bad_ but she can't she can't and she knows it, she'll die the moment she wraps her hands round his neck—

"Sh-she ain't a friend...!" cries out Sakamoto. But then he says immediately after, "Come _on_! Hurry up and _go...!_ "

But she can't move, she's trying to move but she can't because he'll die the moment she leaves this cage, she'll have his blood on her hands, and how can she let the guy who tried to save her get mutilated!? But of course Kamoshida has to _keep talking._

 _ **"What? Too scared to run away?"**_ He leers at her, almost looking a tad _disappointed_. _**"You're not even worth killing, not really."**_

But then the knights grab Sakamoto by both of his arms and hoist him up and all Makoto can do is watch _all she can do is watch_ —Kamoshida smacks him once across the face, twice now across the face, a third time. Punches him so hard one of his eyes turns black, knees his gut and Makoto can swear she sees a little red fly out Sakamoto's mouth. A sword is held up to her neck, she can't move, she can't fight, she can't even turn away.

Sakamoto's a mess on the floor by the end of the beatdown and Kamoshida _spits_ on him, right in his face. _**"Where'd your energy from earlier go?"**_ Sakamoto's then picked up from off the ground and tossed over to the cell wall. When he falls back to the ground, he doesn't even move. Makoto doesn't even see him _breathe_. _**"I've wasted enough time beating you down. I'll have you killed...right now."**_

"Wh-what —!?" Makoto exclaims, but the guards grab her by her arms and push her into the wall the moment she rushes forward. "S- _Sakamoto_! Let me go! Kamoshida!" The man turns to her and he grins as she cries out, "Have you lost your mind!?"

Then his grin turns into a scowl as he draws closer, closer, _too close_ , **"What's with that look in your eyes...?"** he chuckles before scowling again. _**"Anyone ever tell you—"**_ then he _kicks Makoto in her stomach_ , sends her to the wall, guards grabbing her arms then to keep her from moving as she coughs and growls and snarls in pain and anger and _hate hate hate **"** **—** **it ain't very womanly**_ _**to glare?"**_

Makoto tries pushing herself free of the knights' grip on her shoulders as she bares her teeth and flares her nostrils and growls and stamps and screams like an animal, " _Kamoshida_!"

 _ **"Hold her there...,"**_ he grins, turning back to Sakamoto. _**"I'll have some fun with her, after we take care of Sakamoto."**_

Knight's blade draws closer to the scruff of Makoto's neck and it'll rip through her trachea if she's not careful. Sakamoto's looking up at the third knight in the room, and all he can do is plead, "No, no no no I don't wanna die, no no _no no please_ —" as Kamoshida laughs and laughs and laughs and _won't ever stop laughing._

It's at this point Makoto hears the voices in her head again, someone telling her something strange yet amazing yet fearful yet _familiar yet not_ —

 _this is truly an unjust game_  
 _your chances of winning are almost none_

The world darkens as the butterfly flutters by her face, a blue butterfly she recognizes from a time that has occurred yet at the same time hasn't.

 _but if my voice is reaching you  
there may yet be a possibility open to you_

Then Makoto's head and heart throb uncontrollably, like she's suffering an aneurysm and a heart attack at the same time, _**"Will you simply remain where you stand...and just watch this travesty? Will you forsake him to save yourself?"**_

She doesn't know where the voice is coming from but it hurts it hurts so much she can't even say a thing as her teeth chatter and she's pleading for Sis again because this is all just some crazy nightmare she's not waking up from yet—

 _ **"If you do nothing, a man dies and his blood will be on your head. His death will go unavenged, and the world shall suffer yet another injustice."**_

And Makoto growls again, she _hates_ again, she feels the worst she's ever felt and she wants to break the whole planet in two because it's just _full_ of people like Kamoshida, people who're willing to hurt and kill and torture others for their own pleasure _all because they're the king of some castle nobody even knows about!_

 _Sakamoto's held up against the wall the sword's being raised he'll bleed and die and be cut up into a million pieces if she keeps on doing nothing!_

 _"KAMOSHIDA!"_

And then Makoto feels something blast in her lungs, travelling up to her brain and then transitioning to her eyesockets _and it burns it burns it burns she wants it to stop she wants to die_ —

 _ **"Have you decided to tread the path of strife...?"**_

And through the pain and the agony and though her eyes are burning like they've been set aflame, Makoto finds herself wanting more and more and _more of it_ , "Yes...come to me...!"

 _ **"Very well. Let us proceed with our contract at once."**_

And Makoto screams a terrible scream, one that can be heard all throughout the castle. Kamoshida and the guards turn to her and see her screaming and writhing in her bindings and all she can think of is how much she wants to _tear down every single brick from the castle such that not even a single stone will remain standing!_

Kamoshida then orders the knights holding her to the wall, _**"Execute her!"**_ but Makoto doesn't listen because he's not worth listening to, she doesn't care because he's not worth caring about!

One of the guards bashes his shield into her face and Makoto's sent tumbling to the ground, but all she can hear is a beautiful voice, a lovely voice, one of authority and power; one that sounds utterly divine.

 _ **"You have finally found your own justice. Please...never lose sight of it again. This memorable day marks your graduation from your false self..."**_

And she faces Kamoshida. She feels something cold along the upper part of her face. Something heavy, rough, made of iron. She should be concussed. The hit from the shield should have knocked her out. But she's more alive than ever before.

She grabs at the iron mask and she tries tearing it from her face but it's melded to her skin it's melded to her skin which means she'll just _have to pull harder_. She can feel her cheeks bleed and she can feel her eyelids tear, she can feel her temples throb and her fingers strain as she keeps _pulling at the iron on her face_ —

"Come forth!" she cries out, red flooding down her eyes and her face all the way down her cheeks she wants to cry tears of joy and she wants to get to work dismantling everything the monster before her has built! " _Johanna_!"

The fire wraps around her and she's engulfed in a bright blue that she'll never ever get tired of seeing. She wants it bathing her, every single inch of her, and she never wants it to stop. The fire changes everything she has and everything she is and it does this simply by unleashing that which she kept inside for so very long.

And as Kamoshida shirks back in fear and terror and horror and as the guards just helplessly watch as Makoto obtains a power that can't ever be surpassed by anything they've got in store, she glares at Kamoshida and she _smiles_ the same smile she believed no one would never be able to pull off.

 ** _"Thou art I, and I am thou."_**

Something silver blares from underneath her waist and she sits yourself atop it handily, gripping at its handles. It glows a heavenly light and it's enough to blind the common man but Makoto can see it as clear as day. The black wheels rev in the dungeon as Sakamoto widens his eyes and pushes himself against the brick of the wall.

 _ **"From the sea of thy soul, I cometh."**_

She moves her wrist once and her Persona fires up, and she's lucky the cage has enough space for a motorcycle to make a swerve. She grabs Sakamoto by the scruff of his neck, leaving Kamoshida and the guards dumbstruck and horrified as she charges to the gate —

 _ **"I am Johanna, Condemned Priestess."**_

—and she barges through, ready to enact a prison break.

* * *

 **author's notes:**

 **EDIT 8/1/2017  
I actually never had too much of a problem discerning the characters through the pronouns; then I remembered, of course I wouldn't have a problem, I'm the writer; readers, though, might have a different point of view.  
Due to readers voicing their confusion over my use of pronouns, I've** **turned Makoto's narration to 3rd person, as per reviews have requested.** **  
Sorry for the confusion; thanks for voicing your thoughts, always looking for feedback on how to improve my writing. :)**

 **EDIT 11/25/2017  
Also added in the scene where Ann gets in Kamoshida's car. It's a small scene, but it helps the pacing immensely.**


	15. Chapter I, III

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

"What...was that just now...?" Sakamoto asks her, though she isn't paying much attention to him at the moment; his words are just background noise.

She's gotten herself and him out of dodge. The both of them are still in the dungeons of this miserable castle, but they're at least somewhere _far_ away from Kamoshida and the rest of his knights. Makoto and Sakamoto are at the very end of a walkway with empty cells along the walls. Said _walkway_ is really just a long path of earthen rock. No guardrails, no floor tiles. Just soil and mud and grass. Across from it is another walkway and another set of cells. Thankfully, said cells are empty. Between the two walkways is an unrelenting stream of water, flowing underneath the soil endlessly.

There seems to be a way to get over to the other side; a drawbridge of sorts, next to one of the cells, that at the moment is raised up. There's a statue of Kamoshida next to said drawbridge, a statue that Makoto's deduced might have something to do with lowering the bridge, but for the life of her she can't figure out what. She's too shaken. With rage, with excitement, with fear, with blood pumping through her veins; she can't really determine it.

She doesn't even remember much of how she got herself here; all she can feel is a rush of adrenaline that's slowly fading but won't ever vanish completely. She's breathing heavily, she realizes; she also realizes Sakamoto's trying to talk to her, telling her things like, "Y-your clothes..."

And Makoto looks down and sees that she's still wearing the leather and the shoulder pads and the iron mask. Johanna's gone, though; having disappeared into the winds, shattered into black fire and as Makoto recalls everything she's just gone through it all just _sounds so stupid_ but she knows they all had to be real. She can feel it deep in her bones, none of this is a dream. Everything she's experiencing now is absurd and ridiculous and the stuff that dreams are made of. But she's part of it now, and she can never turn back.

Because who can?

"S-senpai...," says Sakamoto then. "What do we do now?"

Makoto turns to him, and she says confidently, "We'll have to go back in."

He nods, remembering, "Right...we ain't alone here..."

"That guy with the glasses...he's most likely stuck in this place, too," she says. "We can't just abandon him. And besides...," her head lowers as she grunts, "there're others besides the three of us still trapped in this place, too."

They both hear the screams, the screams of other innocent people trapped here, most likely being tortured and maimed or worse. They are victims of Kamoshida as well, Makoto knows deep within herself she can't leave them to suffer. She has to remember her morals, remember what her father taught her, and what her sister has forgotten. If Makoto loses them, she'll lose herself.

And in this insane place, she can't afford that. Especially not when so many lives are on the line. So she turns to Sakamoto and declares, "Come on. Let's go. We'll have to stay quiet, for now. Keep your head down and your voice low. We can't risk running, might alert some nearby guards we're unaware of. If we're gonna have a chance at saving him, we need to keep ourselves quiet."

"O-okay," he says. "I'll follow your lead."

Makoto and a delinquent from her school (whose reputation may not be entirely undeserved) are now planning to rescue a bespectacled young man she's never even met before. One who _may or may not be_ a _killer_ -slash-heir—the heir to a corporation spread out all over Japan.

For great justice.

Thoughts of justice only intensify the moment she and Sakamoto get up. It's at this point she sees just what she's passed by; something Sakamoto had seen but hadn't commented upon because even he was sickened at the sight of it. There are multiple cages hanging from the ceiling, rusty cages that each contain a single person wearing a Shujin uniform. They're screaming things that don't make sense and muttering words that don't exist, and they're clawing and writhing in their prisons like madmen, trapped in this miserable place.

All Makoto wants to do is scream.

She wants Johanna to come back and she wants to use her _somehow someway_ to get these people out of their cages. Even though Makoto doesn't know how or why any of this is happening she can't help but feel this rising _burning_ feeling within her, that all these people are students from the school _she_ attends and yet couldn't save at all.

"We need to keep moving," she tells Sakamoto.

"Y-you serious?" he asks. "We're not gonna...?"

"It's just the two of us," she replies. "We don't know how large this castle is. We don't even know how many guards there are. If we release these people, we'll most likely just get caught. And we'll have made no progress at all."

"Running is all we can do...?" he grunts, his hands balling into fists. "You can't summon that bike o' yours or something?"

She shakes her head, "We can't risk drawing attention to ourselves, not when there's only two of us. If we get these people down from their cages, not only do we risk giving away our position, we also risk being...," she sighs, utterly confounded that she even had the ability to say these things, "dragged down."

"This is...!" Makoto sees Sakamoto grit his teeth again in his rage, "We can't do anything but sneak around like _rats_!"

"No," she tells him. "That's not all."

"H-huh?" he stammers.

"I'll come back here," she declares. "I don't know how or when, but I'll come back here. I'll get everyone out of these cages, back to their families. It'll take time and it'll take effort but it'll all be worth it. I'll do it."

" _We'll_ do it," Sakamoto suddenly cuts in. "I may not be able to summon a motorcycle outta nowhere, but...," then he shakes his head. "Can't let Kamoshida ruin more people's lives...," then he scratches the back of his head roughly, "this is all like some crazy dream...!"

 _Maybe this really is all just some dream_ , Makoto muses. If it is, she wants nothing more than to wake up. But if it isn't...then she can't help but want another shot at Kamoshida.

A proper battle between the two of them, to decide who _really_ rules this place.

And then she hears a voice, a small nasal voice, calling out to her.

"H-hey, you there...!"

* * *

 **\- SECTION III -  
Her face uncovered, I see her in all she is.  
**

* * *

Okay.

Maybe she is kind of dreaming.

"What is this thing!?" Sakamoto exclaims.

"You're not soldiers of this castle, right...!? Get me out of here! L-look, the key's right there...!"

Makoto and Sakamoto are in front of another cell and there's some strange black creature pulling at the bars. The creature is small, up to their knees in height. Its round head is twice as big as the rest of its body and Makoto likens it to a cat, really. It's got the pointy ears, the paws, the tail; but it also has blue eyes as large as her forearm, a utility belt with yellow buckles, and a yellow handkerchief wrapped around its neck like a collar.

And it's kinda cute, she admits to herself.

But back to the situation at hand.

"We're trying to find someone and get outta here!" Sakamoto exclaims. "I mean...you obviously look like an enemy too—okay, maybe not _exactly_ like one but y-you get the—!"

"The cat's locked up in a cell, like we were...," Makoto trails off, putting a hand to her chin. "I doubt it's an enemy, but it _is_ suspicious..."

"Come on...!" the cat-creature yelps. But then its expression sharpens and it snarls, and it says, "A-and don't call me a cat! Say that again and I'll make you regret it!"

"That's a really nice way to try getting someone to help you...," Makoto sighs.

"S-sorry," it mutters, but then it shakes its head and it cries out, "Look, you wanna know where the exit is? I can take you there! You don't wanna get caught and executed, right!?"

"Can you really help us?" Makoto asks.

Confidently, the creature declares, "I never go back on my word!"

But Sakamoto shakes his head, "This thing sounds like it's all talk..."

"If you guys think you can find whoever you're looking for and then get out on your own, then be my guest!" it replies.

Then Makoto hears noises, steel clanking against steel. She turns to her side and she sees lumbering shapes again, they're charging at her, marching, and they're much _larger_ than before, she sees one of them with gold-plated armor and she turns to Sakamoto and he sees them too and he doesn't know what to do anymore either so they're both left with the _cat_ because they're just that desperate.

Sakamoto growls, "You seriously not messin' with us!?"

"They'll catch you if you do nothing!" Then the cat turns to Makoto and says, "You may have a Persona, but the knights in gold you can't take on alone! They're too strong! You _need_ my help!"

She quashes all questions she has of _Personas_ because there's no time to be picky about what helps out and what doesn't. She can feel it, too, somehow; the Shadows coming for her and Sakamoto (and she has _no idea_ how she knows the knights are called _Shadows_ ) are stronger than the ones that tried _killing her_ back in the cell earlier.

So Makoto grabs a set of keys lying on the ground as Sakamoto hisses in his fear and anger, Makoto fumbles with the keys as the cat cries out, _"Hurry up hurry up hurry up!"_

And then the knights are close so very close, they're running now in their armor and they're running fast, running quickly too quickly the armor should be impeding their movement but they're fine just fine nothing's stopping them _at all_!

So when the locked gate opens and the cat comes out of the cage it runs out and swerves, swerves to the knights running at the three of them and he leaps into the air, shouting a triumphant, " _Zorro_!" as he dives down and spins and somehow brandishes a _cutlass_ from out of nowhere—

"What the...!?" cries out Sakamoto.

One of the lesser knights is stabbed in its mask, black spurting out from the wound as something large and grand and _magnificent_ barrels out of the cat's head.

A large figure cloaked in black, with silver patterns coated along the hem of its clothes. It is thrice Makoto's size and it is wielding a rapier in its hands. It has a large silver belt buckle molded into a grandiose Z and its chest and shoulders and arms are supposed to be far too big for its spindly legs to carry—yet it seems to have no problem at all, swishing through the air.

The figure slashes once through the air and the _Shadow_ in gold-plated armor is sent back, the cat leaping off of the knight it had stabbed just a few moments ago. There's a third knight, however; a third knight clad in silver that hasn't been attacked yet and now all it can do is charge for the humans but Makoto decides she _won't even give it a chance to fight_.

"Johanna!"

In a flash she's on her bike and the world's a blur and she's screaming _madly_ as she rushes forward, Johanna's wheels revving and everything that isn't in the moment just fading away. Makoto drifts into the knight and it's all routine to her even though she's never _once_ driven any kind of motorbike before, and the force of the hit is enough to send it flying into the stream of water below the walkway.

Makoto breathes, the rush flowing through her brain again and the world's suddenly a beautiful place to live once more.

She glares at the remaining knights. The one that was stabbed in the face is rising now, black spurting down from its mask. The golden one is banging its blade against its shield and it's demanding, _raring_ for a fight. But Makoto knows the more she fights the more she'll draw attention to herself and her companions, she thinks perhaps it's best if they just _get out of here_ and she remembers the drawbridge—

"Blondie!" The cat exclaims, "Pull the jaw o' the statue down!"

"R-right!" cries out Sakamoto, because what else can he do? So he runs over to the statue in a jiffy and he pulls the jaw down and the drawbridge lowers, practically _slams_ down as there's now a new path they can take, a new path to freedom.

So Makoto grins as she swerves and she's grateful the walkway's wide enough for Johanna to make her strides. Makoto grabs Sakamoto again, but this time he's ready for it and he hoists himself at her back as she screeches Johanna's tires and makes her drive.

"Wait for—" then Makoto feels something _land_ on her head, "—me!"

The cat-creature's on Makoto now, but she's hardly distracted by its weight or its sudden appearance because all she can think of is the drive. She has Johanna swerve every which way, cutting corners and pulling at the brakes, she just hears the noise of the wheels _vrooming_ all across the place and she's never felt more free. No one can steal this from her; not Kamoshida, not Sae, not the killers and the rapists and the psychos.

She's in her own world now, and nobody's gonna stop her.

"They're still coming, step on it!"

She hears their words and she does as they say for them but she does it for herself as well. The wind is beating against her and her hair's just _flowing_ endlessly from the back of her head. Everything's flying as the tires scrape along the soil and the brick and she finds herself in different hallways, different places in the dungeon. She sees people in armor, she passes them by like nothing and they can't catch her. They can't even hope. They might as well give up now.

Makoto Niijima's on top of the world, even though she's in the damp and dark halls of a dungeon.

" _Big Shadow up ahead_!" cat screams, _"Be careful...!"_

But then she's forced to _screeech_ to a halt and her companions can't help but scream out loud cause the stop is so sudden and jarring and she's so close to hitting the enemy but she _stops_ right in front of it. And when she stops, she glares.

Another golden knight. Another large, golden creature that's twice her size and it's just standing there, its blade brandished. It is telling her and her allies to _halt_ , in the name of King Kamoshida, and Makoto's just so sick of that name she's now thinking of just running him over and continuing on her way—but then the sounds of steel clanking against steel come from behind and she lets out a "Tch...!"

She never expected they'd follow her all the way from where she and the others with her were. She thought she'd already gone far enough such that they'd ignore her—but how far has she gone, really?

She's in a hallway. A wide hallway, wide enough to accommodate Johanna's form; but all sides are blocked. To her left and right there are cells—cells with people lying facedown on the ground, barely breathing, barely moving, barely even alive and covered in scars that'd kill any sane man—to her front and her back she's faced with knights. With _Shadows_.

Sakamoto's freaking out right now, not knowing what to do and holding his head in his fear while the cat simply says, "Amateur!"

Then he leaps off of Makoto's head and stands firm. He turns, looks at her in the eye and asks, "You can fight, right? Let's take 'em down!"

"Roger!" Makoto cries out as she lets herself grin.

The knights all writhe for a moment before they transform into things that she half-recognizes—though she doesn't understand why. Makoto feels a kinship with them—as horrific as they seem, as much as they wish to kill her.

The golden knights both writhe for a moment and in an instant large horned stallions take in their place. Their bodies are black while their manes are white and their eyes blaze with a fiery, hateful red; bright veins popping up all over their musclebound legs. The stallions are thrice Makoto's size; so they can easily trample her and Sakamoto and the cat into mush. Meanwhile the silver knight has become something smaller, something that burns. It is a large pumpkin with a face carved into it, glowing eyes burning from its hollow innards. It has no body to speak of—just a cloak hanging from its base and a pair of gloved hands, one of which is carrying a lantern.

Makoto's squad is surrounded. She and the cat can fight, yes. But can they fight well enough? The horned stallions appear strong, stronger than the monsters Makoto ran over minutes ago. But she's got no time to think because one of them's charging directly at Sakamoto who's stunned and terrified and frozen in place—and so she decides to do the same!

She revs Johanna up as she charges and the world becomes a blur again as the cat creature summons Zorro again and slashes at the creatures attacking from behind as Makoto charges and charges and _CHARGES_ —

And of course she and the stallion both just end up taking themselves out.

" _Niijima-senpai_...!"

The stallion's neck is twisted and mangled and it's crashing to the ground and letting out one last howl as black spurts out wildly from its neck _which has been wound up like a spiral_ —but Makoto's no better. Upon impact, Johanna drifted into the cell bars to her right and when she hit the bars Makoto felt like every bone in her body had broken. But she's fine for now, she can still move, and Johanna's still at her waist, revving as strong as it has since the moment she brought it into this world.

"I'll back you up!" cries out the cat. "Fight like your life depends on it, 'cause it does!" Then he turns to the pumpkinheaded creature because it's got a ball of fire flaring up in its lantern— "Zorro! Garu!"

"Johanna!"

Zorro blasts the pumpkin with wind and all of a sudden it's sent into the wall; Makoto has Johanna charge at the second stallion, but she doesn't go for the head—instead Makoto has her bike dodge the horns when they sweep down on her and instead she steers under its belly and makes the charge for one of its _hind_ _legs_ —

 _SNAP_

Johanna hits it like she's just hit a light post and this stallion lets out a cry of its own as it, too, crashes to the ground. Makoto and her Persona are covered in this black sludge as they both screech again to a halt. Makoto's breathing now, she's shaking again, and she doesn't want to ever forget this feeling running through her bloodstream, pumping through and into her heart, positively driving her mad.

Sakamoto's looking at her now, and he doesn't seem to know what to say. So she ignores him for now, turning to the cat and asking him, "Name, what is it?"

And he smiles as Zorro sinks its blade into the pumpkin, making it scream and choke and die on its own black gore, "Morgana. You?"

"Makoto Niijima."

"Fascinating...," he nods. But then his ears perk up and his eyes widen and he makes another sharp turn. "Okay! Now's our chance to run! Everybody's wounded pretty bad, if not dead! They're not gonna catch us!"

"Then hop on," Makoto tells him as she revs up Johanna's engine a little more. Then she turns to Sakamoto, and nods to him as well.

He just rears himself back and purses his lips, before swearing again that this all _has_ to be a dream, getting on the bike once more.

* * *

It is damp. And it is dark. And it is like a nightmare, one that I wish to awaken from.

I've been laid out on gravel, and I'm staring at the ceiling. Water is dripping from the cracks and the grooves of the brick, dripping onto my face and _I'm here to suffer, aren't I_. I'm here to keep on suffering because I deserve it for what I did to Kana. I deserve to burn in Hell for all of eternity, but I'm not in Hell, I'm in a _Palace_ , which is pretty much kind of the same thing.

I know I'm in a Palace because even though it _looks_ different it has that same feeling, it gnaws at the back of my head all the same. My heart pounds and my eyes burn and something's aching and clawing at my spine from the inside out; I have to get out of here. Get out of here and beg my father to send me to another school because Shujin's got someone _screwed up enough to have a Palace_ —

Then I remember I'm not the only one here. I can't be. The other two, the girl and that delinquent-looking fellow. They're here with me, somewhere. From what I remember last, they were attacked like I was. I couldn't be the only person held captive. And the _screams_ I hear coming from outside my cell, the screams of children my age, the screams of innocent people being flayed about and tortured—were they normal humans trapped in here, with us as well?

"What are you going to do now?"

And I recognize that voice. And I clutch at the bars. And I grit my teeth and I scowl, "Get away from me."

"You know there's only one thing you can do."

"Shut up," I tell it, grabbing at the lock in front of the cell. Rusty and mottled, but I can still—

"You can get out of here, right now, if you'd like. I don't want to see you trapped like this."

"I said, be quiet." I'm trying to be calm I'm trying to be sane I'm trying to not _listen to the monsters inside my brain_ but it's not working and I wanna kill _everything_ now just to make the voices go away and be stuck back again in the calm of _somewhere else_ —

"I won't hate you if you use those powers."

"I said _shut up_ —"

When I turn I see her.

Not the monster I've made a pact with.

She has her green eyes again. She is wearing a red scarf around her neck. She is wearing a Kishibaru uniform and she is standing there, calmly facing me with her hands at her sides and her shoulders deflated. She is the most beautiful girl in all the world and she's here with me, again. Except it's not her, it can't be her, because I saw her writhe, I saw her go mad in my arms, I've seen her lay lifelessly in a hospital bed from a madness I bestowed upon her—

"Stop looking like her," I say to it. It doesn't say anything back. So I turn back to the bars and I try fiddling with the lock. I don't have anything small on me, so I can't really unlock it. Is there anything else I can do, to get out of here? I turn to the hinges of my cell door, see that they're not rusty but I decide it's worth it to at least try and kick 'em till they break—

Then it speaks again, "Akira, I never hated you."

"Shut up," I tell it, raising up my leg and letting my foot _kick_ the hinge and it hurts and it hurts so much but I have to do it _again_ do anything to get me out of this cell—

"You can do it, I won't hold it against you."

"I said shut up, will you _listen_ to me for once—" I grip the bars and I'm breathing heavily now. "Stop, you're not her."

"I never held it against you at all. You were only trying to help me."

I hold my face with my left hand, the one I used to shoot her and her daughter— "Please stop. Don't make me."

"I meant what I said, that last night we were together," she says. "I mean it still."

"How could you not _hate me_!?" I whirl around, gritting my teeth at her. "I killed Masako, I killed your mom, I killed your dad, I killed _you_ and you can't just—!" Then I realize what's going on, I glare at her—at _it_ —and I turn around to the bars again, "I said _stop it_!"

"Its _me_ , Akira," _IT_ says. "Please look at me, I don't want to see you like this!"

"Stop talking stop talking stop _talking_ —!" then I slump to the floor, still clutching the bars. I'm shuddering with every breath as I'm trying to compose myself, trying to keep myself calm. Trying to just regain my senses. "Just...please stop talking..."

And she stops talking. She's behind me. I can feel her. It's real. I don't know how it's real but it's real. That sensation I get in my chest when she's there, that aura she'd give, that feeling she gave me, the feeling of wanting to do good and be good and not be what I used to be, not be some selfish rich kid who only cared about _breathing_ and not _living_.

"I could have run, that day," I say to her. "Could have run, taken you by the arm and left Shido there. He was drunk, so he'd have probably forgotten our faces by morning. And if he didn't, my dad could have fought for us in court. He'd probably end up winning and I'd probably be separated from you again but it might've been better 'cause you _might have lived_. Might have. Not a very big chance, but it was still a _chance_. But I didn't. I killed him. I wanted to, I think. I wanted to because I hated him for what he was trying to do to you. But what am I thinking...?"

I then turn to her. But she's not there anymore.

"You probably would've gone mad all the same."

Then I hear something hit the bars and I whirl to see what's come for me, think of all the things I can do in this situation aside from saying the name of the yellow-eyed creature in my skull—

"Yo! Glasses, you're okay!"

I see the blonde-haired man from earlier clutching at the bars of my cell. We just met more or less a few minutes ago, but right now he's looking at me like he's reuniting with an old friend from a bygone age.

"What...happened to you...?" I ask him, noticing the bruises all over his head and how he's slightly limping on one knee.

"Don't worry 'bout it!" he exclaims. "Stand back, we're gonna bust you outta here!"

"What do you mean, _stand back_?" I stammer.

"J-just do it! Trust me!" he cries out. "Senpai! Over here! I found him!"

"Thank goodness...!" I then see someone running over to him. This person is a woman, clad in skintight black leather. She has an iron mask over her face and shoulder pads with three spikes protruding outwards. Her hands are pure white and her eyes blaze like red-hot fires as she walks over to me and she grips the bars herself. And she says, "I know none of this is making any sense to you. None of it makes sense to me, either, to be perfectly honest. I am going to break this gate down with a magic motorcycle named Johanna, and you're gonna have to stand back if you don't want to get run over."

Of course, she knew how stupid that sounded. And yet she said it all anyway, meaning that it must have been the truth. And I believed it, because why wouldn't I after everything I'd seen thus far? So I meekly nod and move to the back wall of the cell.

Then I see the woman in the iron mask nod at me and tell me, "That's a good distance," before taking a few steps back herself and sucking in a huge breath of air. Like she's psyching herself up for something. Then she glares at the gates. Grips at the iron of her mask. And she says a name.

" _Johanna_!"

I'm not very easily impressed, not by a great many things. But I'll be lying if I say the sight of a giant silver motorcycle, with a blue face emblazoned on the front end, _crashing_ through the steel of cell gates doesn't give my cold dead insides a little bit of a _tingle_.

"This is the guy you're searching for?" says a black creature at my feet. "Looks a little scrawny, if you ask me..."

And I'm abhorred by it. And I don't know why. It's something visceral, some sort of gut feeling. I want to step on its head. I want to rip its bulbous brains out of its round skull. I want to twist its neck and rip off its lower body and hear it scream and die a thousand times and never ever let it stop never ever let it stop screaming let it howl and cry and bleed forever—but I can't do that. I can't do that anymore.

I can't be a killer anymore.

The rider of the motorcycle is looking at me now. Her face uncovered, I see her in all she is. She is the girl who stood by my side earlier, in the rain. And when I see her with her red eyes boring into mine, as she smiles and breathes like she's just run a marathon, I can't help but feel an inexorable and unquenchable disgust settle in my bowels as two words burn into my mind. Even as the motorcycle fades away and she's just standing right there, standing before me, the words won't stop ringing in my head.

 _Wild Card. Wild Card. Wild Card._

I don't know that this will be the woman I will end up hating more than anyone else in this world.

* * *

 **author's notes:**

I can't be the only one who finds it hilarious that the MC of Persona 5 is known as _AKIRA_ , but Makoto's the one with the _motorcycle Persona_ and the one proficient with nuclear skills.

 **edit 8/7/2017  
** **Turned Makoto's narration to 3rd person for all her chapters, as per reviews have requested.**


	16. Chapter I, IV

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

"I don't know how any of this is possible," says the masked girl, looking at herself, at the walls, at her leather attire and the cat, "and right now I don't really care. We need to get out of here as soon as we can. With all the ruckus we've made, it's entirely likely we've alerted a sizeable number of guards to our position—"

You wouldn't expect me to suddenly try coming up with a rational, logical solution to all of this Palace nonsense—especially considering that a delinquent, a woman in an iron mask, and an anthropomorphic _cat_ had suddenly busted into my cell—but I think I'm in some full-circle sort of deal where I'm just freaking out over so many things at once that I've reached some upper-tier form of tranquillity.

"Wait," I suddenly say to everyone, fiddling my pockets. "Get your phones out."

"What?" asks the delinquent. "If you're checking for a signal, there isn't one. I checked earlier."

"Not looking for a signal. Looking for an app."

"An app?" the girl asks. Then her eyes widen. "An app." She reaches for her own pockets as well, the delinquent quickly following suit.

"Wh-what the...?" he stammers out. "Is this what you're talking about?"

He shows me his phone and I see the red eye. I nod, "Yeah. Hit it. We might be able to get out of here right now."

"I don't think using your phones'll help us get out of the Palace in any way!" suddenly shouts the cat.

"Shut up," I grunt at it, tapping away at the message asking me if I'd like to leave the Palace.

But instead all I get is an _Access Denied_. _Access Denied, Access Denied, **Access Denied!?**_ "You've got to be kidding me."

"Wait, you've used this thing before...?" asks the masked girl.

"Once," is the answer I decide to give her. "It got me out in no time flat..."

"When did you—?"

The cat interrupts her, however, by saying, "Even if you _could_ use your phones to get outta this place, you can't do it here. The Palace owner's cognition is too strong...you'll need to get to a safe room, and I've not been able to find one..."

" _Safe room_?" I ask gruffly.

The cat just groans, "Okay, we'll be stuck here all day if I take the time to sit down and tell you everything you don't understand! J-just—" it grasps the sides of its large head for a few seconds, eyes closed shut, before it tells us, "—look. Okay. All we can do now is try sneaking on by and getting you out of here through the front of the castle."

"How do you propose we do that?" asks the masked girl, hand to her chin inquisitively.

Cat replies, "There's a window I used to sneak in, I think you all can fit through to make your escape. But we _can't rush things_. We've made enough noise already—Palace's guards are most likely on our tails. Attacking 'em's no longer our priority. We need to sneak our way outta here."

"Okay...," delinquent says. "Not liking our chances, but I don't see any other way..."

"What do you mean?" masked girl asks.

"Well, you've got that getup," he says, "and we've got a walking, talking cat following us around. I don't really see how we can't _not_ attract attention, honestly."

"We've got to try, though. We remain here, we die." masked girl declares. Then she turns to me. "How do you know about the app?"

"Used it once," I say to her.

"What do you know about _Palaces_?" she then asks, mildly frantic in the way she just pours out words from her mouth. "Anything you know may help us escape this place sooner—"

"The only thing I know that could possibly help us is that the app gives you the option to make an exit," I say to her. Deciding to leave out the little tidbit involving Faceless Gods and eldritch nightmares and girls going mad in my arms.

Of course she's suspicious. Of course everyone's suspicious. So she asks, "Do you have a Persona?"

That _word_ just _claws_ at the innards of my brain and carves things into the back of my skull, things nobody can ever know of. So I just stammer out a clumsy, "Persona...?" in hopes that I'd never have to use that monster in my head again.

Because I knew what she was talking about. Context clues and everything. Her _Persona_ must have been that motorcycle she just used, the vehicle she called Johanna. And the closest thing _I_ had to a Persona, I wanted nothing to do with at all. Call me a coward, a weakling, a fool. Doesn't matter. I'd sooner have the Palace guards behead me, quarter me, flay me all over and urinate on my remains.

People are here with me. They may need my help. I have powers they most likely _and had better_ not have. Said powers come from an entity within my head that _wants_ me to use them, to lash out against the horrors of the world like the monster I know I am. I can use these powers, however evil they may be, to help others. But I shouldn't, so I won't.

If Kana thought she was a curse, _Nyarlathotep_ must be a cancer.

None of them ever should understand. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

"What are you hiding?" the masked girl asks. She has to, it'd be wrong of her not to. It's only logical to ask these things of me—I'm not exactly the most reputable-looking guy around. But all this does is drive me up against the wall further, forcing me to hope that whatever is holy is watching over me in some measly way or another—

"Guys, wait!"

—and it is.

"Shadows inbound! They're coming to this cell, we need to leave right now!"

Sort of.

At the cat's words, the girl swiftly jerks her head to the cell door. The delinquent sucks in a deep gulp of air, turning to the both of us in his fear. Not knowing what to do next at all. The girl turns to me again, glaring at me with her red eyes through the gaps in the iron, and she grunts, "Come on!" facing the cell door again and running out. "Hop on the back! Johanna's large enough to fit three, I think!"

"Th-there's just enough space!" cries out the delinquent.

Then I hear the clattering of steel and the sounds of stampeding boots hitting gravel and stone, and I'm forced to run alongside the delinquent and the cat, the both of them deciding to call out names.

" _Johanna_!"

" _Zorro!_ "

* * *

 **\- SECTION IV -  
** **And in the dream I am somewhere else, watching this happen.  
**

* * *

"Okay," says the cat, "go where I tell you!"

I'm on a magical silver motorcycle being driven by a costumed woman who's being directed on where to go by a _cat_ , all the while sitting behind a delinquent with my arms wrapped 'round his hips.

Wind is blowing through my hair. World's a blur, but the girl's steering so quickly and so precisely she manages to make her turns at just the right moments. We're being chased now, lumbering men in steel wielding greatshields and swords that are longer than I am, swords that can cut through steel like butter and I don't know how I know this but I do.

They keep coming, and the girl keeps driving. To let her continue going at the speed she's going at would be irresponsible, but necessary. The _Shadows_ coming for us are running at speeds no living biped on the planet should be able to. So _Johanna_ continues going forward, flaring up and blazing, a running light in the damp and dark dungeon.

The cat has a large male figure hovering above it, keeping up the pace with Johanna's speed. The figure is cloaked in black and is dressed in rogue Mexican garb, wielding a rapier in one of its figure blasts the knights coming for us with gusts of wind and though the knights are slowed by this they are not repelled in any fashion. They just keep on coming.

I should be freaking out over all this insanity but I'm not because I just wanna get out of this horrible place and never come back.

I see the girl driving Johanna and fire seems to flow from her head in a somewhat endless stream. I don't think she's blinking, and I don't think she's even blinked once since she's started the ride, even though the air _must_ be hitting her eyeballs. She doesn't look back a single time, not even as I and the delinquent struggle to keep ourselves latched to her.

She doesn't say a thing; she only listens. To the clattering of the creatures behind her, to the cat hanging around her neck, to the noises Johanna makes as she continues ripping through the stone of the world. There's something sprawling in my mind, a blurred hazy thing that I'm not entirely sure how to describe. But it's something I do not like, it's something I feel whenever I see her.

To me she's close to a monstrosity, something uncontrollable and vast. A living, breathing hurricane that will tear the world apart if left unchecked. It is an instinctual feeling—some part of me _knows_ that this girl is dangerous, and that I should have nothing to do with her.

If she has the same madness I do, and if she uses it with as much abandon as I did in days past, then I have every right to fear her. Along with what plans she may have for this Palace and its owner, whoever they may be.

When we get to a staircase, the motorcycle and the rogue fade. But we've gotten ourselves a respectable distance away from the Shadows at this point in time, so running up the stairs won't be too much of a hassle.

"Quick!" exclaims the cat, still draping itself on the girl's neck. "We run up here, we get to the front hall of the castle!"

Wordlessly, I and the delinquent run up the stairs, following the girl as we hope with everything we have the knights won't catch up to us. When we reach the top of the stairs she kicks the door down and we find ourselves in a large, open hall. Large red carpet stretching out and covering every inch of floor. Chandeliers and potted plants hanging from the ceiling. Ionic pillars holding the upper floors. Fabric drapes hanging from inner balconies and platforms.

No guards at all.

When we turn to our left we see a large set of doors, the doors I remember entering through to get the delinquent out. When we turn to our right, we see a staircase leading to a platform, leading to a large painting hanging from a wall.

The frame is five meters wide and ten meters tall. The painting itself is of a muscular man without a shirt, a large red cape flowing from over his shoulders. The man's arms are folded and he's laughing madly, hungrily, pridefully. Bright roses surround the corners of the painting as the delinquent grits his teeth and the girl balls her hands up into fists.

I should tell them they should do nothing. That it'd be much better if they were to just leave right here and now and _not_ pay attention at all to any of this, lest they cross the line. The cat's trying to grab their attention, "Come _on_ , we can't afford to just stand around!" but they're too angry to care, too infuriated to move.

So I tell them, "You can find him in the real world and take care of him there."

This gets their attention, but before they can even say anything something _whizzes_ by our heads.

"Wh-what the—!?" the delinquent falls flat on his back because the steel just brushed against the bridge of his nose and it's now bleeding.

We turn. Crossbow bolt stuck in one of the pillars. We're too late.

Guards filling up the door of the dungeon, all raring for a chance to run their blades through our bodies. Another door, one in the main hall, floods open as well and even more knights come busting through. They lift their blades and hold them to our necks before we can even properly react, so we humans are forced to huddle together and stand our ground. The delinquent grunts in both rage and fear, the cat turns its head as though surveying the situation, and the girl remains silent. Looking at the painting. Glaring at it like it's the Devil himself.

I soon realize it's not the painting she's looking at. It's the man standing at the bottom of the frame. The man whom the painting was made for, the ruler of this castle. He has yellow eyes and a red cape with hearts patterned all over its stitches. He's wearing virtually nothing underneath said cape, and he's mighty proud of it, by the way he saunters on down the steps and grins at us the whole time.

I hear a swarming noise and I feel insect legs tickling the inner walls of my skull. I remember entering a city ruined by hellfire. I remember killing the creatures within that city and destroying the life of the greatest person in all the world by doing so. I remember the tender taste of human flesh, I remember gleaming silver sinking into the meat of a neck, and I remember seeing a living cancer breathe his last breath at my feet.

It's all coming back and it won't ever stop coming back.

 _ **"Look what we've got here...,"**_ the Shadow says, walking over to us four, past all his guards. _**"Honestly didn't expect you to make it this far. Shouldn't have underestimated Miss Student Council President's skills to lead the dregs to freedom."**_

"Kamoshida..." Girl's fingers sink into her palms and she lowers her head, her glare fiercer and more animal.

"You can stop this, you know," I hear. And I turn. I see a girl with black hair and a red scarf around her neck walking towards me. The girl has topaz eyes and a wide smile and nobody can see her but me. Nobody can see her but me. Why can't anybody see her but me _she's standing in the middle of us all_ — "Use me to your heart's content, lest you all die here and now."

I can't. I mustn't. There's no way I can. Not even a fraction of it can get out into this world. Not again, not after what I did.

 ** _"Sakamoto...it really is a pity to see you cowering the way you are,"_** the Shadow laughs as he draws closer to the delinquent, the latter glaring at him as well. _**"How far the star runner of the track team has fallen."**_

"That has nothing to do with this," delinquent grunts.

 _ **"Doesn't it?"**_ he laughs. _**"You betrayed your teammates, crushed their hopes and dreams under your boot, and you still carry on as carefree as ever. Now thanks to you, you've gotten yourself and two others executed."**_

The delinquent wants to kill him, make him bleed, I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn't know what that means, what he'll end up doing to the Palace owner in the real world, none of them know what they'll end up doing to him in the real world, _I have to stop them before they do what I did to Kana_ —

The caped man then turns to me, looking right into my eyes, _**"And you; ah, you're the new transfer student. Sorry you have to die here, really. It's kinda unfortunate; you barely dodge juvie only to wind up here. Rules are rules, though; prisoners can't escape their dungeons 'til I tell 'em to. You'll have to face the punishment for breaking the law. You can't defy the king, after all."**_

And as I look at him a plan forms in my head. I remember the silver in my bag. All at once the air is clear, and I am somewhere else watching it happen.

The man's eyes scrunch up before widening, and he smirks, _**"You think you can look at me like that?"**_

Before he knows it I lunge at him and have an arm round his neck and a knife to his eyeball and I'm staring at all the knights and I'm darting my head every which way. Knights can do nothing, delinquent and girl and cat all stand there stunned and the King is squirming in my grasp and crying out and screaming, **_"What do you think you're doing_** _ **—!?"**_

"Back off, _back off_!" I scream at the knights, pushing myself past them with an arm wrapped around the King's neck. I shouldn't be this strong, my eyes shouldn't be burning the way they're burning, I shouldn't even be using the knife _why did I even have it in my bag at all_ but then I keep talking. "Let us go or your king bleeds out on the carpet!"

 _ **"You can't do this to a King—!"**_

 _"Johanna!"_

She saw the chance and she took it. Once I startled the guards, all she needed to do was summon her bike and just let the engine rip. She didn't _kill_ any of the guards, but knocked them down, got them out of the way, left open a wide enough gap for the door.

"Zorro!" The cat's Persona then barrels into the world and fashions itself into an _en garde_ pose, brandishing its rapier and letting the wind fly all over the world, sending the knights even further away from us. "Okay, guys! Let's move—!"

Then something sparks and splutters and flies through the air and hits Zorro square in his chest and the explosion is as loud as a thousand grenades going off simultaneously.

The cat can't even scream as it falls from the girl's neck to the ground like a rock.

Girl exclaims, "What!?" as the delinquent backs himself into a wall.

Another blast of fire comes forward and hits Johanna hits it makes it go up in flames in a bright flash of light—the girl is flying through the air now and she's fallen to the ground she's not getting up not moving not moving but not dead, I can see her breathing I can see her breathing and I turn to where the fires came from—

And then we see a golden knight at the top of the stairs, standing right at the base of the picture frame. The knight is pointing its blade forward and the tip of said blade is smoking. Once it lowers its weapon to its side, we see it writhe for a mere fraction of a second and then we see it for what it really is.

It has red wings. It is thirty-three feet tall and its armor has changed from gold to silver. It is brandishing a fiery blade as its red eyes glare upon us madly and there's a bright red light emanating from its form, as it hovers and looms over us like an angel passing judgment over our very souls.

There's a voice in my head and it's telling me to reach up and grab it and tear off its wings. Another voice still is telling me to get myself and everyone out of here. Push the King to the ground and grab the cat and the delinquent, get on the bike and drive out. But there's a third voice in my head, telling me something I absolutely cannot do under any circumstances.

My knife is right at the King's eye. The Palace will be destroyed the instant its owner dies. I can assume all the Shadows in the vicinity will disappear as well. Once the King's throat bleeds out the girl can grab every single one of us and get us out of here on her bike. What choice do I have?

I don't want to do it. I can't do it. Not again. But I'm not here. I'm not holding a knife to the eye of a Shadow. It's not me, doing any of this.

But then the King lifts his head to me, _**"Go ahead. Cut my throat. Do it. I won't even get mad. I know you can...you've done it once before, right? To someone even worse than me. But if you wanted to, if you really wanted to, you'd have done it the moment you got your hands on me."**_

The knife is shaking. My hand is trembling. My eyes are wide and there's something hot running through my veins. I want to reach out and grab myself and tell myself I have to stop before I do anything drastic, before I destroy the mind of another man. But I also want it all to end right this minute. Fire's in my arm and my teeth are chattering and I'm remembering the alley, I think of that man whose head I bifurcated and I remember the Wolf who handed me a gun and I want to stop I need to stop I can't do this I can't do it I'm not supposed to _I'm supposed to live_ _—_

But right now I'm in a dream.

And in the dream I am somewhere else, watching this happen.

Slowly, I'm beginning to wake up.

And he knows this.

He smiles as he grabs me by my hair and before I know it I'm on the ground, the knife skittering out of my hands. I try to get up because I have to get up but before I know it he's stepping on my head and my mouth eats red carpet.

He's kicking me like a dog on the street, calling me names like _Murdering Trash_ and other exorbitant insults as he watches spit and drool and blood cough up from my mouth. Each kick is harder than the last and because he's kicking my kidneys I can feel my bowels loosen and my pants get soaked. I'm twitching by the thirtieth time a kick lands and I won't be able to breathe properly or eat well for the next few days, surely.

I want to end him, I want to get up and say its name and rip him apart and tear him to shreds and do to him what I did to Shido and not regret it a single bit. Somehow, someway, I will rise up from the floor and destroy him and this Palace and everything it is and ever will be.

"Stop it...!" cries out the girl. Covered in burns and ash, she's pushing herself up off the ground. "L-let him go...!"

 _ **"Why should I? The King's orders are absolute. Kid tried to cut my throat and you were willing to let that happen; you didn't even call him out on it."**_ Then he turns to the delinquent and says, _**"Y'know, if this is about what I**_ **hope _this is about, you took it way too personally."_**

The delinquent—Sakamoto—glares at him. "Stop it...," he pleads, slumping to the floor in his helplessness. "Please, just stop..."

 _ **"That's what I'm talking about** **—so emotional! Though it was only temporary, have you forgotten my kindness in supervising track practice?"**_

"Wasn't no practice—" cries out Sakamoto, slowly rising from the floor, "—it was physical abuse! You just didn't like our team...!"

 _ **"It was nothing but an eyesore! The only one who needs to achieve results is me! The coach who got fired was hopeless, too...I'd have**_ **only** _ **settled it with breaking his star athlete's leg, but he just kept**_ **pushing _._** **"**

"You sick—!"

 _ **"Want me to break your other leg, too? School'll call it self-defense anyway! Just stand there and watch, like the scum you are."**_

"I...I...am I gonna lose again...!?" Sakamoto cries out. "Not only can I not run anymore...the track team's _gone_ 'cause of him...!"

Before he kills us, I must kill him. I must rob him of what makes him himself. I will destroy him and make sure he never comes back in any capacity, forget the consequences.

Or maybe I won't.

There's one last voice in my head, another voice that sprouted the moment I saw Kana in that cell. When she talked to me, telling me that she didn't blame me for what happened. The voice was quiet then but it's loud and clear now. It's telling me to stay down.

Stay down and lie here, you lying murdering sick psycho murderer. Just lie here and die.

It's only what you deserve—

" _Sakamoto_!" cries the girl in the iron mask. "Are you just gonna sit there and take it!? He took everything...!" she stumbles in her speech because she's still hurting, still got the burns all over her. "Took _everything you loved_ from you! You're never gonna get them back! And now you're gonna let him take _even more_!?"

At that, Sakamoto stays silent for a long time. Then he looks at the King, dead in the eyes.

I can't read his expression. I don't want to.

He's rising up from the ground as he says, "You're calling _me_ scum...after everything _you_ did...!?" then he walks forward, the King still grinning that mad grin of his as Sakamoto proclaims, "No...that's...that's what you are. All you think about is using people. You're the real scumbag, _Kamoshida_!"

It's at this point Kamoshida rears back, ordering the angel up above, **_"Silence him at once! He can't talk to a king that way!"_**

" _You're no king_!" cries out Sakamoto, giving Kamoshida the pointer finger. "You were an Olympic medalist who _failed_ so hard at life he ended up becoming a school teacher! So you can shut up and _stop looking down on me with that stupid smile on your face_!"

And then Sakamoto starts hearing voices of his own.

 _ **"You made me wait quite a while."**_


	17. Chapter I, V

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

 _ **"You seek power, correct? Then let us form a pact."**_

Sakamoto's eyes blare open as he clutches at his head and begins to scream; there's a thousand needles penetrating his skull and his knees feel like lead weights are pulling them down to the ground.

 _ **"Since your name has been disgraced already, why not hoist the flag and wreak havoc...?"**_

His jaw is hanging and his eyes are twitching and he's making noises only a sick and dying elderly man entering cardiac arrest would make. He's hurting on every single part of his body, but the pain makes him want to move, to live, to do everything he couldn't do out of his fear.

 _ **"The other you who exists within desires it thus. If you accept my bargain, then you will walk down a path from which there can be no return!"**_

It is at this point Sakamoto laughed somewhat, through the overwhelming agony coursing through his cranium. He thought of Takeishi. He thought of his mother. He thought of how everyone saw him, that day he lost everything. He remembered how the anger had just built and built inside of him, growing hotter and brighter every day, until he couldn't take it anymore and let everything go in one single punch.

And he knew that he was never gonna ever stop being a beast. So he just screams, " _I hear you_!"

 _ **"Very well! The skull of rebellion is your flag henceforth! Thou art I, and I am thou!"**_

Something black and steel forms along the upper half of his face, and he grips it with both hands. As if his arms command him to. He feels the skin around his eyes tear and rip; he keeps on screaming, but it's less out of pain and more out of ecstasy. He feels the steel clamp around the skin over his temples, and he doesn't care if the resulting pull makes him die of blood loss.

 _ **"From the sea of thy soul, I cometh!"**_

Makoto Niijima watches the scene unfold, finding the courage and the strength to stand on her own two burnt and withered feet. The King and his knights can't help but watch. Half of his knights don't know what to do, the other half of his knights are too afraid to try anything. The King is both ignorant and afraid, and all he and I can do is watch as Ryuji Sakamoto _with one last baleful scream_ tears the steel from his face and unleashes a cloaked skeleton on a pirate ship.

 _ **"I am Captain Kidd, Legend of the Open Seas!"**_

It's at this point Sakamoto begins to change.

Something bright and blue engulfs his form, and when the blue fades I see his clothes have transformed. He's wearing a coat now, one with steel running along his spinal cord. The overalls hanging from his waist have turned into bandoliers, and there's a red scarf hanging from his neck. His plaid pants have turned stark black, kneepads wrapping 'round his knees and boots encasing his feet. He laughs now, glaring and grinning at the King before us all—and I see another man who's condemned himself to the same fate as I have.

" _Kamoshida_!" he proclaims, pointing at the angel hovering above us all. "You ain't gonna take _nothing else from me!_ Let's go, _Captain Kidd_!"

* * *

 **\- SECTION V -  
No, it's not crazy. That's the worst part about it; it's actually the sanest thing imaginable.  
**

* * *

Before the angel can let another burst of flame erupt from his blade again, the giant ship _rams_ into him with all the ramming speed of a supersonic jet. Sakamoto's head's bursting but he's laughing all the while, laughing like he's on a high as the angel _flies right through_ the painting of Kamoshida on the far wall—

 _ **"Wh-what the** **—!?"**_ the King splutters, floundering now in his fear. His greatest soldier thus far taken out of action if only for the moment, all he can do now is watch as we again try to make our escape.

But of course we can't make our escape. There're more soldiers still stuck here, with us. None of them dead. None of them gone. All of them getting back on their steel feet, raising their blades and writhing in themselves for just one more fight. But that doesn't matter to Sakamoto. His eyes are square set on Kamoshida, who's frozen in place. The King steps back instinctively as Sakamoto makes a run for him, screaming madly and rushing out a thousand words per second as he makes his charge—

"— _taste o' yer own medicine_ —!"

Before Kamoshida can react in any proper way, Sakamoto _socks_ him right in his jaw so hard I can almost hear the _snap_. When Kamoshida falls to the ground, I see in Sakamoto's eyes he considers kicking him, too. Kicking him like a dog, like how he kicked me just minutes ago. But he shakes his head, seeming to have remembered something. He turns to me and lends his hand, "Glasses! We're gonna bust this joint!"

Wearily, I take him by his hand and he tugs me along for the ride. He calls out, "Senpai! Bust the door open!"

Girl grins fiercely, "Already got you—" fire burns through the air and a white steel shape forms beneath her waist, "—covered."

Johanna is back into the world, engines revving and shining her light upon everything in sight. As the knights recoil at the sudden reappearance of the Condemned Priestess, the girl grins again and the tires let out a _screech_ as she drives forward.

As the girl makes her drive and picks up the cat off from the floor, Sakamoto and I make our run with Captain Kidd floating over us all the while. We know the girl can't stop. We take a moment to breathe, the Shadows descend on us and do all sorts of things. Kill us, eat us, rape us, show pieces of us to each other, wear our skins. No. The girl has to ram Johanna out through the doors right now, and she knows it. It's up to myself and Sakamoto to make it out in time.

But then he and I hear Kamoshida shout, **_"Don't let them escape!"_**

And as we run we turn our heads and we see. We see the angel come from out of the frame, we see it raising its sword again, raise its sword up at Captain Kidd, once it hits Kidd it'll debilitate Sakamoto and _will he be able to maneuver it out in time_ —!? But that's what it wants us to think, I realize.

Stance is weak. Eyes are darting elsewhere. It's made a feint. Stance strengthens once it lowers its blade somewhat and it points it at something else, someone else, I turn to who it's pointing at and he comes to realize it, too—

—so I push him out of the way as my face burns.

As he falls to the ground he sees me and he cries, " _Glasses_!"

And I burn and I scream as the woman in the iron mask watches the scene unfold in horror and fear. I'm screaming now and the sounds escaping from my mouth are alien, animal noises that human vocal chords shouldn't be able to replicate at all. The fire burns my face, my eyeballs, my cheeks. It's seeping into my ears and into my eardrums and into the cochlea and I feel it continue to burn, burn through my skull, fry anything within—

—and all at once, I am somewhere else watching it happen.

"RRRR _RRRR **RRAAAAAGGGHHHH!"**_

I run, my flaming head scorching in my agony and I'm screaming and I keep on screaming as I run forward run forward my target is right there, all I need to do is grab him and make him suffer and bleed and die and then this whole nightmare will end and I can die too I can die and burn in Hell forever and ever and ever and ever **_just like Kana would want_ —**

—No She Wants You To Live _**SO YOU LIVE!**_

Again, I grab Kamoshida, and he's afraid, he's _**SCREAMING**_ and he's wetting himself, I can see his underwear stain with a deep green, I grab him and he's whimpering as I crush his windpipe more and more and punch his ribs _more and more_ so he can't escape. I drag him with me, my head still _burning_ and my teeth chatter as I hear a voice in my head telling me to _rip his skull off with his spinal cord and swing it around like a flail_ , _**BUT I CAN'T DO THAT ANYMORE CAN I HUH KANA!? I CAN'T DO THAT BECAUSE YOU DIED AND I DIED WITH YOU AND I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO DIE ANYMORE HA**_ _ **HA HA HA HA HA HA HA I GET IT NOW! I GET IT NOW! I GET IT NOW I'M OKAY NOW! IT'S ALL A JOKE!**_ _ **IT'S ALL A SICK DEMENTED MONSTROUS GAG THAT WON'T EVER STOP BEING FUNNY!**_

 _ **SO WHY!?**_

 _ **AM I!?**_

 _ **NOT LAUGHING!?**_

* * *

 _Cnn Yuu Hrr Mrr_

I wake up hours later, in an alleyway. There're lines coming by my head and things are splashing into my hair. The rain is harder than I've ever felt it.

When my eyes flutter open, the world's a blur. I'm hearing noises that sound vaguely like words. A shape is holding up two stick-like objects in front of me and speaks something I half-understand: _Hrr Mnni Fnngrrs Mm Aii_ —

"Two...," I grunt. "Two."

"Thank goodness...," I hear, finally.

I see a girl. Not Kana. Someone else. Someone strangely familiar. She has brown hair, her eyes are red, and she's looking at me worriedly. She's wearing a school uniform, and she's kneeling on the ground. She's drenched in the rain, but she's not concerned with it at all; she's just keeping her eyes on me. Making sure I'm okay. She smiles at me once she realizes I've fully recovered myself.

It's a nice smile.

One I don't deserve. One I shouldn't see. At that, I blink, "What...happened...?"

"A-after you grabbed Kamoshida," she stumbles in her words a little, "you carried him all the way out the door. He got out of your grip the moment you managed to get out. Thanks to you, it bought the rest of us time to get out of the place in no time flat."

"Rest of us...?"

I turn my head as the world begins to solidify into defined objects and not amorphous shapes. I see the young man with blonde, dyed hair staring down at me—concerned yet pleased to see that I still live. He's smiling at me as he says, "Glad to see you made it, man."

"M-my face—" I say, grabbing at my cheek. "H-how...?"

"You can thank me." Something long and slender and black pops up in my peripheral vision. I turn to see it, and I find a tail. The tail is attached to a small black cat with bright blue eyes and a yellow collar. And it's talking. "The name's Morgana, by the way. We were lucky that the fire got snuffed the moment we left the Palace. I fixed up your burns as best I could. Honestly didn't think my healing spells were _that_ effective, if I'm being perfectly honest."

I nod, deciding against saying a simple _Thank You_ because the idea of thanking this abominable thing was enough to make my blood boil, for some indiscernible reason. "The Palace...," I mutter then, placing a hand on my head. "I...I don't..."

I don't even remember how we got ourselves out. All I remember happening last was grabbing Kamoshida. Was it to use him as a meat shield, to help me get away safely? Was I planning to kill him right then and there, and circumstances just so happened to allow me and the others to escape without anything dying? Why can't I remember any of it again? Why did that always happen? Why couldn't I just _stop_ being somewhere else?

Could have killed that creature. Killed it and destroyed the Palace, but would have done to him _the same thing I did to her_ and nothing would have changed. Nothing would have changed. Was I _okay_ with that? Was I just willing to go through with having another man suffer a mental shutdown?

But what else was I supposed to do? That was, from a logical standpoint, the best course of action. Killing Kamoshida's Shadow would have saved all of us, gotten us out of there just in time. No angels to burn us alive, no knights to chase after us, no kings ordering our heads. It wouldn't have counted as _murder_ , would it have? If anything, it would have been self-defense.

Self-defense. I was going to do that to protect myself, protect the people who were with me. If I wasn't gonna do it, who was? Kana, if I wasn't going to do it, who would have—?

At the thought of her again, I hold my mouth and I tremble in horror.

"H-hey," the girl asks me, "are you alright...?"

And I look at her and though the very sight of her _repulses me_ I can't bear the idea of letting her return to that place in any way, shape, or form.

They can't know. Not about curses, not about hellfire, not about withered fifty-foot tall babies or titanic lumbering eldritch abominations. Not about gun-toting Wolves and Crawling Chaoses. Not about stealing away what makes someone themselves. How could I allow anyone else to go down the same path I'd gone, with _her_ green eyes staring at me from the back of my mind?

Kana was a curse I chose to bear. Now it is my duty to ensure nobody else gets cursed along with me.

"'Course he ain't alright," grunts Sakamoto in his bitterness. "Nothing's ever alright, when it comes to Kamoshida...," then he shakes his head impotently, cursing as he spat out, "What _was_ that place, even...?"

" _That_ was a Palace." We all turn to the cat. "I know that sounds obvious," it continues, "but bear with me here. That castle we were all in, it's not a _real_ castle—it's a manifestation of someone's distorted desires."

"Distorted...desires...?" asks Sakamoto.

"That guy who kept on hounding us with his knights; wore a big red cape, a crown, speedos —he must have been the guy running the whole show. There's someone like him in the real world, right? I heard you say his name."

Sakamoto grunts again. "Right. Suguru Kamoshida. Gym teacher at our school. Used to be an Olympic medalist...somehow ended up in Shujin," he smirked, thinking that perhaps there was some karmic sense of justice left in the world. Then he turned back to the cat, the realization hitting him, "So you're telling us _that castle's_ like...his desires come alive, or something?"

"All we know is that there is something in this world that this Kamoshida person views as a castle," the cat says. Turning to the girl, to Sakamoto. "Any ideas?"

The girl simply replies, "The school. He thinks the school's his castle." Then she grunts, the concern in her eyes giving way to barely-restrained fury. "And he's the king."

"Makes sense to me," the cat says. "Kamoshida doesn't realize what happens in there. It's on a whole 'nother plane of existence. But what happens in that Palace is deeply rooted to the depths of his heart. That Kamoshida you saw in the Palace wasn't the real him. Rather, it's...a Shadow."

At that my mind bends and my heart bursts and I feel insect legs skittering about in the marrow at the base of my skull. Girl asks, "What's...a Shadow?"

"A Shadow," says the cat, "is borne from humanity's darker aspects. A thoughtform that lives and feeds of the evils in men's hearts. Kamoshida thinks of himself as a king. So his Shadow is a king. Those knights serving him? Lesser Shadows, drawn to the distortion clawing at his heart. The distortion he _cultivates_."

It's at this point the girl then asks, "What happens if the Palace were to disappear...?"

I blink at her. "What are you—?"

The cat then mewls for a bit, smirking somewhat, "Thought you'd never ask...if the Palace goes away, then naturally, it'd affect the real Kamoshida. What's your beef with him, anyhow? Both of you?"

Sakamoto's the first to talk. "I used to be in the track team of our school. Best runner of the whole batch. Kamoshida was a pain, though. Every day, he'd put us through things that'd be considered borderline illegal, if he didn't have the whole school under his thumb. One day I snapped. Now...," he clutches at his knee. "Now, it's a miracle if I even manage to jog a few meters..."

Girl looks at him. But says nothing. Her eyes are wide and her breaths are noticeably heavy. But she says nothing. Not until the cat asks her, "What about you, _Makoto Niijima_?"

She blinks. Then clears her throat. "I'm...personally, I've never gotten into any trouble with Kamoshida in the real world. But I have heard rumors."

"Rumors...?" asks Sakamoto, sounding actually fearful. "W-wait, you knew —!?"

"I didn't know for sure," she groans, exasperatedly. "What could I do? _Ask_ someone if they were true? Go to him and ask him straight to his face? I was _furious_ when I heard about him and the girls on the volleyball team, don't lump me in with—!"

"Girls!?" Sakamoto then exclaimed. "What're you talking about!? I didn't hear nothing about that!"

She stares at him, mouth agape. "You didn't...you...," she clutches at her head as she stares at the ground in her rage, "I've heard rumors that Kamoshida has... _extra practice sessions_ with some of the girls on the team...I," she puts her own hand to her mouth, alarm widening her eyes further, "I could never get anything out of anyone, and it was all just...just rumors...I never _knew_...I didn't want to...I didn't think it was...!"

Sakamoto then punches the wall with the side of his fist, enraged as well, "If that's true, then...!" He snarls, "He's even more of a monster than we thought...!"

"Wait, both of you, you need to calm down —"

But the cat cuts in before either of them can even hear me. "That castle, his Palace—like I said—is a manifestation of his distorted desires. If the castle goes away, then..."

Both Sakamoto and Niijima turn to the cat. Both of them are aware of the implications of that statement.

But Niijima's the first to speak up. "What do you want? Why are you even telling us this?"

Cat sighs. _Somehow_ , the cat sighs. I'm listening to a cat sigh. This isn't right at all. "Very well, then; I'll get right to the point: I'm a human." At that, nobody says a thing for quite a while. Allowing it to continue. "I've been trying to find a way to regain my human form for a long, _long_ time."

"How'd you even...?" Sakamoto asks, scratching his head.

"I don't remember," cat grumbles. "I want to. I keep trying to. It's all so foggy. I've been jumping from Palace to Palace, trying to find out if there's anything from them I can use to help me become human again. But I've got no such luck. I'm no good alone."

"And that's where we come in," states Niijima.

Cat smiles. And I want to kick it into the streets the moment it speaks again, "Help me return to my human form, and I'll help you deal with Kamoshida—"

"Don't ever use the app again."

Everyone turns to me. "Wait, what?" mutters Sakamoto.

Girl, Niijima, then looks at me. Cautious. Steeled. Suspicious. Something in her eyes tells me she's none too fond of me at the moment. For what reason, I cannot fathom; she was genuinely concerned for my safety just a minute ago. "You said you used the app once before. What exactly did you do?"

"Wait, what's this about an _app_?" asks the cat.

"It's how we got into the castle," Niijima fiddles out her phone and shows it to the cat. Shows the red eye. "Got it just this morning. I don't know how, I don't know why. It's just there." Then she turns back to me, "I'll ask you again. What do you know about it?"

She has that look in her eyes. That same look the jury, the paparazzi, and the students gave when a cold-blooded killer passed them by.

She knows.

I don't know how she knows but _she knows._ On at least some level, she's aware of me. Then I think. I think of how, how she could possibly be even aware, and in my fear my mind takes me months back and I recall an assortment of names; Akechi, Kana, Masako, Father, _**Nyarlathotep**_ , but then I remember one surname that I'd think of merely in passing. The surname of the woman who prosecuted me for my killing of Shido.

 _Niijima._

I glare at her now. She's been suspicious of me since Kamoshida's Palace, but at the moment there's nowhere to run or hide. No Shadows to suddenly cut in and ruin the whole conversation. I decide not to lie to her, yet at the same time say nothing of _Kana_ at all: "Don't ask."

Of course she's not gonna let that slip. "I _have_ to ask. That place, that _Palace_ —"

So I grunt out, "Don't. Go. Back. It's evil."

Sakamoto blinks, "Well...o' course it's _evil_ , it's Kamoshida, for crying out loud—"

"I'm not talking about _just Kamoshida_ , I'm talking about the app!" I exclaim. "You use it, you walk a line no one should ever walk."

"What did you do?" she protests once more.

So I give in. If nothing else works, I'll just have to scare them straight. "I used it once. Tried using it for good. Ended up ruining someone's life. That place, that Palace, you try destroying it, you may end up killing this man you despise."

"K-killing him!?" exclaims Sakamoto. Turning to the cat, he demands, "Is this true!?"

The cat, without hesitation, says, "If things go too far, the owner of the Palace may suffer a mental shutdown in the real world. Death is indeed a possibility."

"A mental shutdown...?" exclaims Niijima, sounding somewhat appalled now.

"Erasing a Palace means triggering a change of heart, essentially. After all, humans are nothing without their desires. The will to eat, to sleep, to love, to hate, to fear...to even wish to live, or die. Those are the stakes involved."

"Why would we even go for that, if there's that kind of risk involved...!?" she cries out.

Cat cooly explains, "Because if we do things _right_ , then things'll go smoothly. Kamoshida's distorted desires will be undone. All the guilt and all the shame held down by the weight of his own depravity—it'll spring out from his heart and he won't be able to control it."

"So he'll be...a changed man?" she asks.

"Though a change of heart will be triggered in him, any and all misdeeds he's committed in the real world...they'll still have happened. But he'll be unable to bear the weight of them, so he'll most likely just turn himself in to the police himself!"

"Or kill himself out of shame," I grunt. They all turn to me. Niijima in particular looks particularly unnerved. But I continue. "Like I said. You go through with this, you walk on a tightrope."

"We can't _kill_ the guy!" Sakamoto then cries out. "I-I mean...if we did, then...!"

"Sheesh, I come all this way, and this is what I get," the cat grumbles in annoyance. "It's not like anyone'll figure it out! Besides, aren't you willing to face those kinds of risks!? You and Niijima have Personas! You can fight! You've both felt it in yourselves, didn't you!? That swell of determination, that urge to fight against the chains holding you back! Those things that form in the air the moment you shout their names—that's _all you_!"

"What...?" mutters Niijima.

"Your Personas are who you are! They're you! They're living, breathing legends all living in your mind because they _are your mind_! Now that you've struggled against your own flawed desires, you've managed to rise up high and above anyone with a Palace! It should be no problem for any of you!"

"That ain't the point!" Sakamoto again cuts in. "If we just ran around doing whatever we wanted, we'd be no better than Kamoshida!"

Finally, someone makes sense.

"Sakamoto's right...," says Niijima, then. "Jumping into his _Palace_...it's not the only option available to us at the moment." She puts a hand to her chin. "We can still investigate people, look into the situation ourselves. We can't put somebody's life on the line. That shouldn't even be an option. Not when there's still more we can do."

The cat looks disappointed, almost. Then it shakes its head. "Fine. Do what you want. But I'll be around."

"What do you mean, you'll _be_ _around_?" I ask, getting up from the ground.

"Do you really think that investigating's gonna get you anything?" it asks. "Think about it, if Kamoshida's desires are _this distorted_ , then he must've been at this sorta thing for a while now. You'd think someone in the student body or the faculty would've caught onto his abuses of power by now."

Niijima's hands clench into fists, "You're saying they're deliberately...keeping it secret?"

"It's definitely a possibility you should be looking out for," cat says.

"Why would they keep it shut up like that?" exclaims Sakamoto.

And I say, "Fear." They turn to me, again. "Kamoshida gets outed, school's reputation goes down the toilet. Parents will be castigated for sending their children off to someone who routinely abuses his own students. Teachers will be called out for letting the abuses happen right under their noses. All the shame and scorn. Shujin'll be lucky to survive the scandal."

"What he said," mutters the cat, to Niijima and Sakamoto. "Look, if you wanna investigate, investigate. I can't really stop you. Just know...humans are animals, first and foremost. Though they've evolved to the point where they can discern right from wrong, justice from injustice...in the end, their biggest instinct is survival."

Cat runs up a fire escape ladder and its black form sinks into the shade of the wall and the bars of the iron. After a few seconds of silence, we're sure it's gone.

"I'll help you." Niijima and Sakamoto turn to me. "I'll help you dig up dirt on Kamoshida. But we can't. Use. The app."

I catch Niijima's eyes. She's in agreement with me, but she's still wary. As she should be. I'd be disappointed if the relative of a prosecutor didn't display some innate sense of suspicion.

So I talk more.

"I'm not going to argue with you on whether or not Kamoshida's a _bad person_ , because he is. He's abominable. But to decide that kind of thing...," I glare at them, my hands balling up into fists as I straighten myself up and force out someone else's words. "Our thoughts, our ideas, our beliefs; they're all we have. And to unlearn or change them, that...should be our own choice to make."

Niijima and Sakamoto look at me like I'm the devil they've sold their soul to. I think about Kamoshida. I think about what I did to his Shadow, back in his Palace. How I grabbed him, most likely would have ripped him apart hadn't it been for some very fortunate consequences. Back then, I would have thought it was crazy; unaware of my own surroundings, I was so fuelled by my own malice that I can't even remember most of what happened even up till now. But of course...now I know the truth.

No, it's not crazy. That's the worst part about it; it's actually the sanest thing imaginable. It's _not_ crazy to want to kill everyone responsible for making the world such a horrible place.

It's crazy when you don't.

And that's why...none of us can ever be trusted to enter a Palace.


	18. Chapter I, VI

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

When Makoto Niijima and Ryuji Sakamoto return to the school grounds with me, we all are of course scolded for our behavior. After all, we've missed four classes.

"Where were you?"

There is a man at the top of the stairs of Shujin's entrance. He is wearing a suit and he is glaring at the three of us, though he seems particularly concerned towards Niijima. Before either she or I can respond, Sakamoto blurts out the stupidest answer possible, "A-a castle...?"

And our glares burrow into him like spears. He's rearing himself backwards at the sight of us as the man in the suit shakes his head, talks about how we've no intention of giving him an honest answer, but then we all hear a voice that's too familiar.

"What's this about a _castle_?"

He's as tall as he was in the Palace, though he looks more respectable. There's a friendly glint in his eyes, a neutral line on his mouth. He's wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, two whistles hanging from his neck; yet at the same time I see nothing but a vile king wearing nothing but a cape, some underwear, and a crown. He looks impassive, looks even a little friendly. But we three know exactly what kind of inhumane slop he's really made of.

"K-Kamoshida...," grunts Sakamoto. I eye him carefully then, hoping he won't end up doing something else stupid out of impulse.

"You seem so carefree, Sakamoto," Kamoshida continues. "Quite a difference from when you did morning practice for the track team."

"Shut up!" Sakamoto screeches, "It's your fault that —!" He stops then, the moment Niijima puts a hand on his shoulder. She shakes her head at him, and he stops being so tense.

The man in the suit then growls at him, "How dare you speak to Mr. Kamoshida that way! And Niijima, just what are you even doing with—!?"

"Now, now. I should've been more considerate, too," Kamoshida says through gritted teeth, and a smile too wide to be believable. "Let's say we were both to blame."

Man in suit shakes his head again and sighs, "In any case," then he focuses in on Niijima, "you'll all have to come with me. It's undeniable that you're all extremely late."

None of this matters. None of this matters at all. They're glaring at Kamoshida, the two at my side. They want to just rip him apart right there on the steps of the school, I'm sure. But because they can't, they just keep their wits about them and clench their fists in silence. They don't know what it means, nor should they ever know.

"By the way...," Kamoshida says to me, stopping me before I can follow Sakamoto and Niijima up the stairs. "You're that new transfer student, correct?"

I nod in silence.

It's then that he looks at me quizzically, almost half-disturbed, as he asks, "Have we met somewhere...?"

"No, sir," I reply then.

He hums in affirmation, scratching his head as Sakamoto and Niijima turn their heads to us both; trying to listen in. Kamoshida then continues, "Well, I'll overlook this just for today." _Then_ , he draws closer to me. I can feel his breath on me as he cautions, "I'm sure you've heard from the principal. Cause any trouble, and you're gone. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I respond.

All the while I feel soundwaves blaring in my head, telling me that his neck is completely exposed.

"At any rate, hurry up. I'm sure Ms. Kawakami's tired of waiting." He smiles that plastic smile of his once more, and he says, "Good luck trying to enjoy your new school life."

* * *

 **\- SECTION VI -  
** **"It always starts with one!"**

* * *

After what happened with Kana, I started reading things. Things people shouldn't ever find the courage in themselves to read.

In what I read, there were stories, and in the stories were true and terrible tales of evil men doing evil things to people. Girls trapped in concrete. Families torn apart because some vile human decided a certain girl was delicious enough to take as his own. Foreign men taking in people to traffic for sex, some of these people being no older than ten. These are stories where justice was not served, not as much as it should have been or not at all. For that is one of the rules of the planet. Justice is not an inherent factor; frequently, people who've done terrible things are let loose. And those who fell victim to these terrible things most often had done nothing to deserve them.

I don't know why I read these things. I don't know how to describe the stomach churning feeling I had when I read them, not in any other way but the feeling that the Devil was creeping on my shoulder, watching me and pleading with me to sell my soul to him. And I didn't want to. I don't want to. I never want to. But I hear him lingering. I hear him speaking sometimes, telling me it's easy. Sometimes I think I've already sold my soul. And I pray every day, every minute, every hour begging God to save me. Begging Him to show his mercy, pleading with him that my thoughts are merely thoughts and hold no sway over my final destination.

After Kana, I've taken to prayer. Every night, I curl up into a ball in my bed and I beg God to save me because I can't ever hope to save myself. Every night, I read what feels like a thousand scriptures in an effort to make me feel like I've made strides with God. Even though I imagine their voices in my head. The voices of the victims of cruel people, the voices of said cruel people, the voices of Kana and Masako telling me that it's my fault they're at Death's Door, the voice of the Devil telling me to _do it do it do it._

And my own voice, pleading to God, writhing in my sheets. Begging Him to never let me fall to the depths of Hell.

He's given me what I've wanted, for now. I am attending school again. A normal school where no one knows of me. And I want to live. Because Kana says I must. And it is too fitting. In order to atone for my sins while on this planet, I must continue feeling the whips lashing at my back and the fire scorching at my feet.

But the Devil is the Prince of this world. He is aware of man's depravities. How to exacerbate them, how to tempt and lure people into the fire. Thanks to one such depraved individual, I've been thrust back into the world of Palaces. And I've dragged innocents into the mess along with me.

When I get to the faculty office, my homeroom teacher speaks to me, tells me things about being careful about who I hang out with. Says Sakamoto's not a good influence, wonders what got _into_ Niijima, why she's with us both. I'm lucky that Sakamoto and Niijima are both out of the room when my teacher brings up my record, my past, my need to lie low.

She's scared, but she looks down on me. A sizeable part of her isn't even trying to hide it, because she knows she can't. When her eyes meet mine, I feel the disgust in her nerves. I hear her heart pounding against her chest, and I can feel the cold tingle running down her spine. Again. I don't know how it's even possible that I hear and feel the things I do. She is my homeroom teacher, and she was there when my father and the principal of Shujin established their terms for my arrival into Shujin.

And in the final hall before the classroom, I see him. He's staring at us. I hear the Devil again whispering in my ears. The Devil speaks of what I know I must do. He speaks of Kamoshida, how I must cure society of his poison. How I must venture into his Palace, rip out his Treasure, and carve his Shadow into a thousand pieces. God knows I want it, I want it too much.

When I enter the classroom, I realize I'm getting ahead of myself. Everyone's eyes are on me and I mumble out words before realizing my voice is too low for anybody to hear. I say my name. Akira Kurusu.

My classmates react accordingly. Suspicious of me, they watch silently as I make my way over to my seat. In the seat in front of me, there is a girl dispassionately looking out the window. The girl has long blonde hair arranged in ponytails and she's leaning forward in her seat, her hands under her chin and propping her whole upper body up as she keeps on not caring.

I hear murmurs. People whispering about knives, politicians, delinquents, and killers. The whispers are like how they were in Kishibaru; low enough to be passed around without fuss, but loud enough for virtually everyone to hear anyway. It was a bridge I was bound to cross. I told myself, months ago, to cross it when it came. But in the end there is nothing.

It's obvious, really. It was all over the news. Wasn't concerned with it; was more concerned with Kana, really. Of course people recognize me from the photos. Of course my name's not fooling anyone. Of course whispers are being had, hushed sentences being shared about me having a knife in my bag. Of course everyone has me in their sights; I'm too obvious a target.

You don't kill a politician without word getting around about who you are, or what you look like.

But like everything else, it doesn't matter.

The day continues on like this, as it should. A whole lot of nothing happens, since it _is_ the first day of classes. I think about Sakura-san, and how disappointed he'll be with me when I return to the coffee shop. Kana appears throughout each class session, often just standing in a corner. Sometimes her eyes are green.

* * *

When lunchtime hits, I eat in a courtyard within the school grounds. Far away from anyone else. From Kamoshida, from Niijima, from Sakamoto. I try to take the silence in, help myself think about just everything that's happened recently. Sitting on a bench, breathing calmly, a bento in my lap and chopsticks in my hands.

"You could help them, you know."

I turn at the sound of that sudden, yet familiar voice. I see a little creature with black fur and blue eyes. It is looking at me, as it stands in the middle of the grass patch in the courtyard. The cat stares and it stares without the knowledge of what I wish to do to it at this very moment. I shiver as I face it and I reply, "Help who, with what."

"Don't play dumb," the cat remarks. "You know who, and you know what."

"Won't people find this strange, me talking to a cat?" I ask it.

"I'm not a cat," it replies. "And they already find you strange. Everyone in this school."

"Good point," I note. "Nevertheless, you're not going to convince me of the _righteousness_ of invading a Palace."

"Even if it may defend lives?" it remarks.

"You're urged them to have a go at an invasion. You even said it yourself, that they should be willing to take the risks. You don't get to talk to me about defending lives."

The cat scoffs, "I suppose so. Fallacy of hypocrisy. But I'm still right; it's the easiest option."

"It's the deadliest option, is what it is," I say.

"Whose Palace did you invade in the past?" it asks, and I snarl at it in response. Boring my bleak eyes into it, I clench my fists as it responds, "I knew you did it before. Whose Palace did you invade?"

"That's none of your business, _cat_."

It bites its tongue then. "So it's someone personal?"

I shake my head, and continue walking from the gates, onto the sidewalk. It follows me, the wretched thing.

"Hot or cold. Relative?" it asks, to which I keep walking. "Cold. Hmm. Tricky. Someone closer. Friend?" My feet make harder stamps on the sidewalk. "Oooh, warm. Girlfriend?" I whip around to face it, slamming my heel down on the pavement. "Blazing," it says with its cat-like grin. A grin which soon fades the moment I grab it by the scruff of its neck. "H-hey, put me down why don'tcha —!?"

"I'm gonna make this abundantly clear. The only reason I'm not tossing you into traffic right now is because we're in broad daylight. If it were dark, and we were alone, the cleaners'll have to deal with cat brains littering the courtyard, come morning."

It breathes through its mouth for a moment or two, before gaining courage once more. "You're angry, you're upset. It's something you regret. But do you really think that just doing things _your_ way will really work?"

"It will," I say, dropping the cat. "I'll make it work."

"If it fails, what'll you do then?"

"I'll try something else, something that isn't a Palace."

"And if that fails?"

"What do you want me to say, I'll kill him?" I growl at it. "Then you'll tell me that I'd rather kill a man than enter his psyche and fix him, that's what you'll say?"

"All I'm trying to say is, there's something that you can do _right this moment_ that'll fix things in a flash, and you're not willing to take it."

"Because I know what it means to take it. Besides, I doubt you even care about Kamoshida's victims."

"What are you talking about?" it says, sounding actually offended a little.

"You're just trying to become human again, aren't you?" I ask it. "That's why you dive into Palaces, constructs of people's cognition. You're searching for what could make you human, in the realms of the human mind. You're not concerned with those Kamoshida's hurt, you're not even concerned with fixing Kamoshida. You're doing this for your own gain. Just as I am."

"It won't _work_. I know it," the cat says, almost condescendingly so —yet it sounds almost sincere in how it tries to convince me of my folly. "I've been jumping into Palaces for a long time. People like Kamoshida can't be changed, not unless something big happens which _makes_ them change."

"So you've changed a Palace-owner's heart before?"

"Nope," it responds simply.

I pick it back up then, and it shoots an irritated look at me as I scream into its face, "Then _how do you know_ that this whole plan of yours will even _work_!?" all the while not caring who's watching, if any even are.

"I just _do_ ," it shouts back. "I just...do! I don't know, either! I don't remember, that's why I'm trying to find out!"

I drop the cat again and say, "You're useless."

"Says the guy trying to _rally the forces of the school_ to put the big bad Kamoshida behind bars, even though they all _know what he's doing_!"

"You know nothing," I say. "You know nothing at all."

"And you're taking unnecessary risks!"

" _You don't_ get to decide what risks are necessary or unnecessary!" I shout again, before shaking my head. "I'm done with you."

"What, so you're just gonna _leave_?" It scoffs. "You're just gonna leave me here, forget about me? Forget everything I've said?"

"You've jumped into Palaces so many times, but you've never nabbed a Treasure. My first Palace, I took the Treasure myself, and when I woke up the next morning my girlfriend writhed helplessly in my arms, as she suffered a mental breakdown. If that's what you think it takes for you to become human," I tell it, turning away in finality, "then maybe you'd be better off a cat."

I get up, off the bench. Closing my bento box and walking away from the cat. Having lost all my appetite from this one conversation alone. I hoped that it'd be the last I'd ever speak to anyone about talk of Palaces, at the very least for the rest of the day.

Of course, I'm hoping for too much.

* * *

"Niijima and I'll be on the rooftop."

It is after class when Sakamoto tells me this. Of course, his sudden appearance startles my classmates and my teacher as well. So much for keeping a low profile. Sakamoto takes one bitterly passive-aggressive glance at everyone in the room before leaving. Then everyone starts talking again. Before the teacher can reach me, I'm already getting up out of my seat, heading out the classroom.

Kana follows me everywhere, of course. She says nothing, does nothing. Every time I look at her, she looks like she's about to speak, but in the end she doesn't. People are whispering about me already. I don't care to hear them. What matters is getting up to the rooftop. They may still be considering going after Kamoshida's Palace. When I reach the rooftop, I'm surprised there isn't a lock on the door. But it doesn't matter as the moment I open the doors, I see Sakamoto and Niijima standing there patiently, as though they were waiting for me.

And I remember exactly what I need to do.

"Sorry for calling you up here like this," he says.

He's sitting on a desk, reclining against an air-conditioning unit. Niijima's leaning against the steel rooftop fence.

He continues, "Bet Kawakami already told you stuff like, _don't get involved with him_ , huh?"

"Yes," I say bluntly.

"Figures," he sighs. "Then again...we're in the same boat."

My eyes widen as the implications hit me. Niijima confirms it outright, from where she is. "Your name is Akira Kanzaki." I whirl around to her, gritting my teeth and growling. But she keeps talking, eyes steeled, "Your face _was_ all over the news, after all."

"I did it to defend myself and someone else," I growl at her.

"We know. That was in the news, too," she replies without missing a beat. " _Teenager acquitted on justifiable homicide_."

"We ain't judging you, man," says Sakamoto. "Just wanted to throw that out there. I mean...," he shook his head. "It was only right that they found you not guilty. If that happened to me, I'd have prolly done the same thing you did—"

"Shut. Up," I snarl at them both. "That has nothing to do with anything that's happened."

"Well, it might," mutters Niijima, getting off the fence and walking to me, glaring me down as she talks some more. "You know things about Palaces. You need to tell us."

I reply, "No, I don't—"

"Yes, you do," she says. "We may end up venturing into his Palace."

"Oh, so _now_ you're okay with potentially rendering a man braindead."

"It's only a last resort—"

"It shouldn't be a resort at all."

"Do you really think we'll be able to get anything out of anyone here?" she replies, pulling herself away from me.

"What are you saying?" I demand, as Sakamoto cuts in, getting off the desk and walking over to us.

"Hey, hey, let's just take it easy," he says, then turning to me. "Look, we're not exactly keen on doin' it, either; but, well...it's just something that's kinda on our minds. Remember what the cat said earlier?"

I remember how the sound of its voice made me want to rip it into mush, but I also remember, "Kamoshida's deeds are most likely being swept under the rug by teachers and other students."

"Yeah...," Sakamoto replied, sighing. "Look...I had some personal experience with Kamoshida, myself. And what that cat said, it...," he shook his head in disgust, "there's some truth to it."

"Very well. Convince me," I reply.

He exhales sharply, obviously more than a little annoyed with me. "Look, will you give it a rest and stop being so antagonistic? I was in the track team! I was under Kamoshida, and the kinda stuff he put us through—you don't puthigh school students through _training sessions_ like that. I got mad at him, couldn't take it anymore. Lost control when he mentioned my dad! Now I can't run, now I'm the school loser, and he's more than likely putting other kids through the exact same thing!"

"And they're not speaking up because they're afraid they're gonna end up like you," I smirk. "Maybe you just need to be made of sterner stuff."

" _Hey!_ " he then shouted at me. "He _tortured_ us! When we couldn't run, he'd hit us! Couldn't stand, he'd deny us water! No breaks, no slacking off! Always more and more pain! Someone even went to the hospital! You can _hear the screams_ until now, coming from the PE room!"

"He's right," grunts Niijima, though she puts herself between me and him. "There's an influx of students coming from Kamoshida's classes all displaying various injuries, ranging from bruises to fractures. We have to put a stop to him. But there's no telling if what we do will end up yielding the kind of results we want to get out into the world. We can't _tell_ police about his Palace; and if people _are_ keeping it secret, then we won't have much of a choice but to—"

"Rape his mind."

"You're being dramatic," she says, glaring at me even more harshly now.

"It's working," I grin. "Now, what exactly does this have to do with my _dark and troubled past_? You saw through my clever disguise, brought it up out of nowhere, and now we're back to talking about bad men and how we can destroy them. Pray tell, do you both just get off on wasting my time?"

"You said you used this _thing in our phones_ ," grunts Niijima, whipping out her cell and shoving the screen in my face, a red eye staring at me from her app wall. "You used it once, used it to access a Palace—and it's something you deeply regret; not to mention you were put on trial for _killing_ a politician; there's so much we don't know it's just _insane_ , and you're the one who has the most experience with all of this."

"And thanks to that experience, I can safely tell you to have _nothing to do with the app_ ," I seethe. "We've already had this conversation! We investigate and we dig up dirt! With a Palace as distorted as his, he's bound to have let _something_ slip!"

"And if we find nothing?"

"We're bound to find something—"

Sakamoto suddenly cuts in, "And what if we don't? Should we just let him be—?"

" _YES!"_ I scream. They look at me like I'm a monster. Because I am. "Maybe, I don't know! But we can't attack his Palace—!"

"Why not!?"

"Because I know what it means to want to kill someone!" I shouted back. "It's not crazy at all! It's too much! Before you know it, you've ripped Kamoshida's Shadow into pieces, his guts all over the walls, and when you see him in the real world he's gone mental, running around the school naked with a gun in his hand and shooting everyone before himself! Or perhaps he'll just skip the whole _everyone_ bit and blow his brains out in his bathroom!"

"Otherwise, we force a change of heart on him," Niijima raises her brow.

"And then what? Is that how we're gonna deal with everyone who drives us mad? Force them into becoming better people, rather than letting them change on their own?"

Sakamoto scoffs at me, "You think Kamoshida's gonna _change_!? Guy's more bullheaded than an ox, you gonna go up to him and, like, _convince him_ to change his ways? And besides, we're not even talking about anyone else but Kamoshida! You act like we're gonna fall off the deep end or something—!"

I growl at him, "That's how it gets you! _Just_ this one guy, _just_ this one person! It always starts with one! That's how justification works; you do it once, you can do it again and again!"

" _Somebody_ 's projecting," Niijima says, passive-aggressive in the most irritating sense.

"It's not crazy to want to stop people from doing bad things. People are not good, and people are not evil. People do good things, and people do evil things! Some kinds of things, people do more than others! I'm not justifying Kamoshida's actions, I'm saying that we might end up doing something just as bad, maybe even worse, than what he does!"

"What, so you're assuming we'll just devolve into animals, the moment we step into his Palace again—if we ever do?" Niijima asks. "That we'll just succumb to our anger and hatred, and just throw caution to the wind? You think it's that easy?"

"You'd be surprised," I tell her bluntly.

"You can't just assume all that," she says. "We're just going to steal his Treasure; nothing more, nothing less."

"Cat said stealing the Treasure even had its risks!" I say to her. "Okay, let's say you _do_ find nothing of value in your little investigation. You go into his Palace and steal his Treasure, you think his Shadow's gonna let you all go? I'll give you some advice from my last excursion into somebody's Palace: you _kill_ the head Shadow, you make his Palace owner shut down _everything_."

"You've... _done_ this?" Niijima widens her eyes.

I grin at her, the widest grin I can manage, "Yes, I did! And that person is in a coma! Most likely till the day she dies!"

Sakamoto and Niijima both stop talking at this point. They glare at me, because of course they do. Now they know exactly what I've done, what I am, who I am. They need to see me as a monster so they'll know what they shouldn't be like.

"Are you _really_ gonna be okay with traipsing on back there, in his Palace, taking his Treasure away and making a great escape, just like that?" I ask her, mouth suddenly stretching into a wide grin as I make my words drip with venom. "Not even a little bit of you wants to grab him by his skull and rip him in two? Lift him over your shoulders before hurling him down onto your knee, snapping his spine? And if he does become a _better person_ , if you steal his Palace and fill him with the regret you want him to feel, what if he feels too much of it, and kills himself anyway? I will not help you in your investigation unless the option of entering his Palace is off the table—"

"Then go," she says, arms crossing.

"S-senpai...?" mutters Sakamoto.

Makoto Niijima continues, "Go. Leave the rooftop, if you'd like. Hide away, cover your ears, shut your eyes. It's clear where your true concerns lie. The Palace cannot be out of the equation. There's gonna be a sports rally next week. Sakamoto and I are planning to investigate while it goes on. Ask people, get information out of them. If nobody coughs anything up, the Palace may have to be our only option. We can't let Kamoshida continue doing what he's been doing."

And I smirk at her, chuckling a little, "He dies, it's on you."

"His heart changes, it's on us," she replies.

"You don't know what'll happen."

"We're not as prone to making mistakes as you are."

"That's the sort of thing someone thinks before ruining his own life. If you do end up crossing that bridge, make sure you're prepared to never come back."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to become like you, now would I?"

Bitterly, I spit at her, "That's the spirit."

And I leave them on the rooftop as I head down the stairs. And after I head down the stairs, I head out the school grounds.

* * *

"I got a call from your teacher today."

Sakura-san doesn't look happy, and he has every right not to. But it's not like I can tell him about Palaces, so I lie in response, "The train schedules were delayed."

He's no choice to believe me. Train schedules have still been rather off since the train incident all those months ago. A conductor going mad so suddenly, people panicking and screaming as the subway had very nearly collapsed into itself right then.

"Don't lie to me," Sakura-san says then. "I find it hard to believe it'd take you up to third period to find Shujin. Even with the trains gone, you'd be able to make it there in two hours at least, from here, just by walking."

I don't respond with anything else but a meek, "I'm sorry."

He sighs then, walking over to me. "Look. Just be careful. I've heard from your teachers as well that...some students are talking about you."

"I know. Kind of figured they would." Like I said, you don't _get_ to kill a politician without your name being known.

I remember the articles written about me. All the people clamoring then for an interview with the kid who killed a potential Prime Minister. Puff pieces trying to make me look like a victim. Articles slamming me, calling me a monster. Various mountains of internet discussions about how some kid who looked like a nerd managed to nearly behead one of the most powerful political figures in all of Japan _just_ because he was drunk and for some reason on the streets.

I and my father knew that hiding me out here wasn't going to do me much good, because so many people would know of me the moment I'd step in. Yet Shujin was convenient. Apparently, my father had ties to the principal, and was assured that no harm would come to me.

Lucky me, because if hearing rumors could kill, I'd be dead a thousand times over.

Even as I went home, past everyone; even as I tried to block them out I could still hear them whispering. Talking about whether or not I had a knife in my bag, that I had killed somebody, that I must've been doing drugs back home.

"It's odd, though...," Sakura-san says. "Throughout this area of Tokyo, the news reports kept you anonymous..."

"The internet exists," I reply tiredly. "People're at their keyboards now more than ever."

"The school even made efforts to keep your past under wraps," he says. "Your father told me he spoke to the principal about making sure what happened..."

"Guess somebody squealed," I shrug.

"Don't treat this like it's some casual occurrence," he grunts. "Your father told me to take care of you."

"You're doing a fine job," I reply to him. "I'm serious. I'm very grateful that you're willing to have me here. But...," I go up the stairs, up to my room, and I feel the bones in my knees pop as I mutter, "this was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm just happy to get it over with asap."

"You're sure you're fine with this?" he asks somewhat gruffly, following me.

"No. But it's what it is," I say to him. "It's the world, and how it spins."

He doesn't answer me then. Just goes back down after sighing a little, tending to the counter and the coffee beans around him. I fall into my bed the moment he leaves. There is a photograph on the shelf next to me, and the photograph is something I can't even bear to look at; not after today. Not after traces of the word _Palace_ still run along my tongue.

There's a freedom in despair, I like to think.

Life and all its unfairness tends to make people more than a little bitter, doesn't it? One day you win the lottery and the next day you find out you have brain cancer or something. Sometimes people would turn to God in matters like this, despite God not answering them as they mournfully beg for a reason as to why little Timmy got eaten by the big bad steamroller. When you despair, there's at least a sense of enlightenment that comes along with it. Surely in moments of depression, you often find yourself with a bit of an ego when faced with how much _you've_ suffered in comparison to others.

When you despair, you're brought to a higher level than all the normies out there living their precious little lives. Free from all the shackles of depression and fear and hurt and pain. How could they understand you? They're not the ones who bore witness to a woman microwaving her six-month-old baby. Nor could they possibly know about the man who ate his colleague over the course of three days and then was released due to yet another flaw in the system.

Suffering's like a badge of honor, isn't it? Soldiers' arms get blown off in the battlefield, but if they survive they get to return home regaled as heroes. And if they don't survive they're either buried with honors or forgotten and abandoned. But even forgotten soldiers are remembered—ironically, precisely _because_ they are forgotten.

It's embarrassing to hear of someone whining over how much they're offended over something like a comment or a joke or a jab. Pwecious widdle feewings taking precedence over _Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones_ and what have you. So what if you're offended? I get offended all the time, by everything—nothing _happens_. It's not like you contract HIV from getting your feelings hurt. You've got your life to live and you just waste it on your hurt feelings. Waste your time on your _wounded soul_.

Humans are strong creatures. We're most likely not even supposed to be here—all just some random accident by the universe. And there are people who would throw this chance to live away just 'cause their _feewings_ are hurt. It's insulting. It's maddening. It's such a waste. You could be the first astronaut to land on Mars, but because you feel sad you hang yourself at the age of fifteen just to prove to your parents that _you would_.

You see, the problem with people is that they tend to like being delusional. People want to feel like they're the main character of the universe and they like it when the universe does throw them a bone every once in a while. But the moment they thrust the drama forward is when they all break down and weep and curl into a fetus and shiver and rot.

Main characters, _heroes_ become interesting in the face of conflict. You wanna be _the hero_? You face your conflict head-on. But you're not the main character. Nobody's the main character, and it'd be arrogant to think that you are the main character because why _should_ you be the main character? Seven billion people on this planet, and _you_ think you're the best pick out of all of them? That _your story_ somehow is of most import?

I know what it's like, to want to be the hero. What it's like to be a speck of dust inside the eye of a giant and want to be _so much more_. And I tell you these things because I want you to know how _dangerous_ that is. How horrifying it is for you to think of such things and want to be such things. And when it hits, nobody can think of anything else to say.

Nobody can think of anything to say, and so all they can do is look to the horizon and hope for a better future because they believe they are too weak to change anything. Because they can't change anything. Nobody can change a single thing about the world.

The moment you think you can change something, you set yourself and others on a destructive path. Justice comes at the cost of blood and sweat and tears. No matter what time or place or hour, a man cannot fight a monster without becoming a monster himself.

And I think about this as I I bury my face in my pillow, not even really bothering to change my clothes. Alone. Unloved. The rumors from my classmates, their whispers echoing madly in my mind. The laughter of vile men, the brand of justice I served by killing a man like a dog in the streets, the completely sane and rational reaction I had when a potential prime minister threatened the girl I loved.

I remember being that monster. I remember feeling that burning sensation across my veins, the fire scorching my feet. And if I were to fall down into that place again...

...then what would become of me?

I mutter then, to the photograph on the shelf, "You'd both hate what I've done with my life."

* * *

 **author's notes:**

* * *

The moral discussions _Persona 5_ could have had are really something to behold. The story doesn't really delve into the implications of the Thieves actions much throughout the story, and it could have done a much better job of it. I know I made this point many chapters ago, but it needs reiterating.

This is why Akira's got a much darker feel to him; there's a charm to him that we as players really enjoy seeing out of him in-game. He's a stylish thief, a huge dork, a nice guy, a sassy conman, a social expert, a chessmaster, and so much more. But you take that charm away from him, and you could very easily have someone just as bad if not worse than the Targets.

(can you tell I actually kinda liked the Bad Ending ;P)

Anyway, this chapter was meant to be more of a character-analysis sort of thing; wanted to show fully where Akira's allegiances lie before we'd continue the story any further. Because what'll happen after this, I'm hoping will shake up the formula to at least some degree.

 **EDIT: ADDED IN A SECTION OF THE CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE INTO HERE; FELT IT BETTER FIT THE CHAPTER. ALSO, ADDED IN THE SCENE WITH MORGANA, FELT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD TO THE PACING OF THE STORY.**


	19. Chapter I, VII

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

Suguru Kamoshida admits to himself that it feels good. That _that_ 's why he does the things he does.

And no one can tell him otherwise. How could they? He's worth more than the whole lot of them. He's been in the Olympics. He's won things, done things they won't ever be able to do. He deserves it, doesn't he? At least that much. He was the pride of Japan. He may just be a school teacher now, but that's not necessarily a bad or even _shameful_ thing. He's taken the opportunity to teach the next generation.

People are not good, and people are not evil. One person doesn't have the right to tell another how they ought to live, how they ought to find their happiness. Happiness, the ability to feel good, is not something decided by others; you decide for yourself what makes you happy, and how to attain it. That's not wrong, is it?

It's how people live their lives, every day. Isn't it? People just seek happiness. They seek what makes them want to _live_. They can't just survive through each day meaninglessly, shambling about like living corpses. They form relationships, watch movies, talk to others, smile and laugh and all those other things that fill that hole everybody has inside of them.

In the end, that's what happiness is. A long string of things that fill a void, and the string ends when you die.

He's not a bad man, is he? He knows he's just thrown a ball into Mishima's face (not his fault the kid couldn't just _dodge_ for once), but right now he's at his side, helping him up to his feet. Calling people over, trying to get help for the poor boy.

He craves the attention, craves the fear and the joy in their eyes. Some may call it petty, but wouldn't you love to be cheered on by crowds? Even if they're all just made up of people half your age? Even if they don't even know the real you? Because who cares about the real you, so long as people see that side of you that makes them smile and jump and make you feel like a king?

He sees them, but mostly the girls. All of them. Some of them, he doesn't even know their names. But he sees them all the same. Thinks about what color's between their legs this time around. Thinks about which one of them's old enough (he's not a monster, even he has standards). Thinks about how perhaps all of them would want a taste of him. But he's better than the others he knows, the others that lurk on places in the 'net many people don't have the stones to visit for themselves.

He's gentle, when he wants to be. He doesn't try hurting them, and it's not because bruises would give him away. They're part of his school. They'd be happy to serve him, wouldn't they? They should be. He really doesn't know why Takamaki can't stand him. But should he care, anyway?

He's Suguru Kamoshida.

Still. He sees her still. The very sight of her is something he both craves and loathes, and he doesn't know which overpowers the other. She's sitting down, on a steel chair. Though the other girls, the less pretty ones, are just standing and cheering his name, she just _has_ to stick out like a sore thumb. Rain on everyone's parade.

She's more than them, he knows. But she doesn't have to be so persistent about making sure everyone else knows that fact. She's not just pretty. Not just beautiful. There's a reason she's a model, a reason so many girls are jealous of her, so many guys want her in their beds. He hears talk of her around school grounds every day, of course he knows why all this talk surrounds her.

There's a charm to her. She's 1/4 American; but somehow, someway, despite that very small margin of foreign blood in her, she gets all the positive traits. Blonde hair. Big bright eyes. Fair skin. Soft curves in all the right places. That kinda smile you just don't get out of Japanese girls.

She's better than them, Suguru knows. But he also knows that she's not _that_ much better. She's still _just a girl_ , like all the others. She'll come around. She has to. Someday, sometime. And even if she doesn't, he thinks he'll be able to live with that.

He's found someone else, anyway.

Someone less pretty. Someone more homely. Plain, uninteresting. Not necessarily a bad find, however. She sounds nice. And the way her eyes and nose just scrunch up...

Then there's Sakamoto.

He sees him as well. In the crowds, just doing nothing but watching over events, eyes glazed. Every few moments or so, he'd feel his gaze on the nape of his neck. Suguru's irritated at him, even up till now. The kid doesn't have a future, but still. It's a pride thing. He's hoping to iron it out as the days roll by. He really should be over it by now, it happened so long ago.

Suguru admits he _may've_ been a little harsh in bringing up his dad. It was a heated moment, he couldn't be blamed for losing control. Sakamoto could, because he was the one who resorted to violence. Smacking him across the face...Suguru still feels the sting at his chin. Of course Suguru didn't mean to _break_ his leg then. He just wanted to teach him a lesson. Besides, it was all in self-defense. The kid punched him! What right did he have, decking his superior?

Kid could've been something, really. It's his own fault for becoming the failure that he is today. Yet he still blames Suguru, blames him for something he was completely justified in doing. Snot-nosed brat, no wonder the father left. Harsh words, but hey, not like they're unwarranted.

He's trying his best. He's building these kids into athletes. Not his fault if they can't keep up with his training regimens. He had to deal with worse, had to run in the blistering heat every day without much in the way of rest. If they wanna make it up in the world, they'll need to pull themselves together and _endure_. Adapt, improvise, overcome. 'Tis the way the world spins, and can't nobody stop it for anything or anyone.

Kanzaki's in the crowd too, Suguru realizes.

Akira Kanzaki. The killer.

Truth be told, even Suguru teared up a little at the sound of his story. He killed a politician to protect his friend, and _anyone_ would do that. That's not crazy at all. But he's still a killer. Everyone knows it, or at least is slightly aware of it. He's still someone who managed to do something that not a lot of people can claim to have done...and that's quite an unnerving thought, isn't it?

You may call him cruel for having his records leaked to the student body, but it's a necessary thing. The students need to know who they're dealing with. Don't they see his eyes? The kid's just waiting to implode; he's lucky his father's on such _good_ terms with Kobayakawa. Still, it's dangerous to have him in Shujin. Staining their reputation, like an inkblot. Suguru's doing the right thing, and he knows he's doing the right thing. Nobody tarnishes _his_ school's reputation.

Yes, Suguru Kamoshida admits to himself that he does what he does because it feels good. And he thinks he can take comfort in that fact, because in the end, if everyone in the world would find out, if everyone in the gymnasium he's in right now would find out, if anyone would have the stones to tell him to his face that he's a monster...well, then they'd be a hypocrite, wouldn't they?

"Alright!" Kamoshida announces then, as Mishima's being taken to the nurse's. "Let's resume the match!"

* * *

 **\- SECTION VII -  
"...you'll hate that most of all."**

* * *

After the conversation on the roof, days pass by like minutes.

Within this time, I don't speak to Niijima or Sakamoto; they make no motion to speak to me, either. Before we know it, we're taken to the gym. We're all of us in red jackets and sweatpants, and we're watching people shuffle around and scream and shout and jump and run. Not knowing a single thing.

There's two teams. Volleyball. One's full of students on the right, the other's got a teacher in their midst. The crowd's cheering as the ball's being tossed around the court with abandon. The aforementioned teacher is the ruler of the castle himself, and even I can tell that the smile he has on his face is one made of plastic. But the crowds cheer him on all the same. _Pride_ of the school.

Some of the students are meek. Others are jovial. Few dare to stay silent and act like they have better things to be doing. I'm one of those few.

Others of those few include a girl with pigtails. A foreign-looking woman, one of my classmates. She's sitting in a chair, deciding for some reason not to stand along with other girls her age. Her platinum-blonde hair and bright eyes stick out rather glaringly in the sea of brown and black hair at her side. Far away from her there is a blonde-haired man sitting up against the wall, scowling at the proceedings before him. A woman with bright brownish-red eyes is sitting at the bleachers, deciding to keep her expression as placid as possible.

Kamoshida is the most excited, seemingly. He jumps around like the world's his playground, and it pretty much is. To him, it all is. The people are his servants, the teachers are those who let him do as he pleases. The ball is his weapon, and when it's in his court he dominates. He returns it every time it comes, never once letting up on the offensive. He's not a young man. But he's a strong one. And that's why he's the King.

Then I hear a _smack_.

Someone's on the ground. Volleyball's bouncing plainly on the ground. Everyone, even the silent ones, lurch forward in surprise. Kamoshida's already there, calling for a nurse. For someone to tend to this poor young man. He's trying to salvage the situation he so obviously caused on purpose, the egotistical mongoloid. And judging by how the crowd so easily dismisses it as a mistake, it works.

The meek, blue-haired young boy is taken out of the gym and the world continues cheering the king. He's smiling, sweating, grinning at the masses. And I'm watching it all happen, waiting for my chance.

When they allow for a break, the plan begins.

Sakamoto and Niijima have their own plans, their own way of doing things. And I have mine.

I see them talking, in a place far away from the rest of the students, a place with soda vendors, surrounded by fauna and canopies. I'm nowhere near them, but Sakamoto's loud mouth lets out details of how _they're gonna find evidence of the abuse_ , gonna _go ask people in the team about it_ , and so on and so forth. They're overcomplicating things.

Muscling in on other people's territory so blatantly is only going to make those they're planning to question defensive. Obviously, there are victims to question and people to talk to. Even I have managed to spot at least a few people from the volleyball team sporting some nasty bruises and wrappings over their faces. But the thing is, with those people, is that they've come so far. Perhaps even too far.

They've endured so much already. Being under Kamoshida's wing has some benefits. He's participated in the Olympics. What kind of athlete would you be to pass up a chance to serve under an Olympian? Sakamoto would be the answer to that, and nobody likes to be like him. So they take the pain and deny it.

There's only one person they need to talk to, really.

Shujin has an online forum where club members and students trying to apply for said club are listed. Sports teams are included. They have pictures of the various members, all their accomplishments, and none of their failures. Night before today, I decided to look up some of them. One of them caught my eye; a pretty sort of girl. Plain, yet not unattractive. Ponytail, brown eyes, small sort of demure smile.

And when I saw her earlier today, what with the dark spots on her head and the eyes that looked like mine, I just knew she and Kamoshida had some sort of thing to do with each other.

I move throughout the school, passing by people. Rumors still sinking into my ears.

* * *

Makoto sighs, because the weight of just _everything_ has to come down upon her at _some_ point.

Makoto's sitting near the soda vendors. On a bench, underneath a canopy. She's staring at the grass bending at her feet, and she's just trying to make sense out of the nonsense she's made of her life. Palaces. Kamoshida. Kanzaki. The fact that she's working with Ryuji Sakamoto, a person she once considered just another delinquent, to bring one of the most vile people she's ever known to justice. She remembers Morgana's words about venturing in and stealing Kamoshida's heart.

Goodness, she remembers talking to Morgana, talking to a living breathing cat-monster _thing_ and realizing that's the least weird thing to come at her, these past few days.

She thinks back again to the Palace. She remembers the wind flowing through her hair, and how for the first time in a long time she felt like she was _alive_. Like she was free. Attacking Shadows, running through the world without fear. Without a care. Facing down Kamoshida, dressed in his paltry attire, wanting to end him right then and there.

She remembers seeing people in Kamoshida's Palace, trapped in cages with their faces enclosed within iron masks. She's figured it out by now. Kamoshida's Palace is a reflection of how he views the school...and those within the school. As such, those trapped students were most likely extensions of Kamoshida's cognition; he views the students as mere prisoners of his castle, meant to suffer punishment at his hands and to be jailed whenever they'd speak against him. She came to that realization a few hours after escaping Kamoshida's Palace with myself and Ryuji.

No Shujin students have gone _missing_ within the past few years. No police reports filed. No kidnapping cases brought to the news. She knows this because she dared to check her sister's laptop for any missing person cases involving people from Shujin. It was very lucky that Sis had brought the elder of their two laptops to work that evening. Even luckier that Sis decided not to go home that evening.

That doesn't make her happier in the least bit, however.

She's part of something bigger than herself. Perhaps bigger than everyone and anyone in the whole wide world. _What kind of world is the Metaverse?_ she asks. Are there others who have Palaces? Surely. What maintains the Metaverse? What created it? What spawned it into being? People? Human beings, did they make it? Somehow, did humanity's collective consciousness just vomit out a whole new world without anyone ever even _knowing_?

At this point, she remembers Kanzaki's words to her, way back on the rooftop of Shujin. How he told her that invading someone's mind would be wrong, to forcibly change their heart would be _wrong_ , that to fundamentally change _who someone is_ is absolutely wrong. And though she's still bitter over how _that_ conversation went, she finds herself somewhat wondering if he was so wrong to think that way.

She remembers watching silly children's cartoons as a child. _Anime_ and films that her sister wouldn't be able to stand. Mostly things involving police officers, of course. How they'd rush criminals down, handcuff them, put them on trial for their crimes. Have them be brought to the stand, brought to justice. She remembers all the _yakuza_ films she'd watch in her downtime, how even through the gangsters' moral depravity, they still had some sense of honor which had to be upheld between themselves.

There is no honor in stealing someone's heart. In changing them for the better through force. What kind of _hero_ would do that? Can you say you're doing something right, by brainwashing someone into becoming a functional member of society? That's too easy. That's Orwellian, almost. What kind of world would it be, if goodness was something that was enforced?

Yet, she felt alive, running all throughout the Palace on Johanna. She felt alive, fighting Shadows and conquering the castle brick by brick. She felt alive, ripping that steel mask off her face. It's insane and it's nonsensical and a part of her _still_ can't believe it, but it happened. It happened and she knows it happened and she'll never ever forget it, not until the day she dies.

In the end, she wanted to attack Kamoshida's Shadow. When he was right in her grasp, she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on him and undo him. In the end, she wanted to fight him, end him and make everything disappear. Destroy the Palace from the inside out, right in front of his eyes.

What would that make her, then; if it's so easy for her to dwell on these terrible things? Is it crazy to want to do such things to bad people?

What options does she have, however?

Earlier, the sports rally decided to stop for a moment, have everyone go for a lunch break. She and Sakamoto went around the school grounds, hoping to find someone, _anyone_ on the track team to tell them about Kamoshida. To give up the charade. She _saw_ the bruises all over them. Their bandaged faces, their arms. They knew there had to be more to it all than just _practice_. And yet, what did she get?

 _"I'm sorry, senpai. Please leave me alone."_

 _"Don't talk to me anymore."_

 _"Stop it. It's nothing."_

 _"Got this from falling down the stairs!"_

 _"What is this, a shakedown?"_

They got people too afraid to talk. People too afraid to fight. For themselves, for others, for anyone victimized by Kamoshida. Nobody wanted to say a thing, because the moment they did everything they'd gained till that point would've been for nothing. She should've thought ahead, planned for this occurrence. Her sister may be a prosecutor, but no good will come of a case without evidence. She can't just accuse someone of being a monster without some hard proof.

But then there's that niggling little voice at the back of her head that's telling her that some small part of her actually wanted something like this to happen.

She ignores it as quickly as it comes, when her phone vibrates. A message from Sakamoto.

 _How's it going on your end_? he asks.

 _No good_ , Makoto replies.

 _No luck on either, huh?_ he says. _Okay. Where are u?_

 _Courtyard_ , she replies.

 _K. I'll make it to you._

Some part of Makoto just knows that whatever will come of this, nobody's going out of it unscathed. She wonders what she'll do, once all this is over. If she does end up going through with destroying Kamoshida's Palace, what would happen then? Would she live out her life as a student, go to a normal college and eventually _just_ become some random police officer? Would she just forget everything about Morgana, Palaces, Personas and Shadows...and just be someone else?

Someone who won't be able to help anyone? Someone useless, disposable? Another cog in the machine? She thinks back to my words. _It always starts with one_. A part of her thinks there might be some truth to that. But that part's too small for her own good. There's lives on the line. Crimes to expose. People to save. And prove wrong.

* * *

It takes me a while, but I see her and I stop in my tracks. I see her now. Standing at a set of glass doors. Doing nothing but staring ahead. And I walk. She sees me after a few moments. She blinks. "What...?" The girl is wearing a red sweatjacket and sweatpants. Her voice is weak, and her eyes are somewhat strained. "Oh. I'm in the way, aren't I...? Sorry..."

"Are you hurt?" I ask her.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, just grabbing her arm as she gets all uncomfortable. "Um...well..." My shoulders sag as I'm reminded of someone. But she speaks again, and stares at me with her dull eyes, "Hm...you don't look familiar. Could you...be that transfer student from Class D...?"

 **—** and of course, we're brought back here again. I nod sheepishly, deciding that whatever happens after this will happen, and I can't help it. If she doesn't want to talk to me, I'll have to find another lead. I'm sure there's other girls Kamoshida's victimized.

"Um, this might not be any of my business...," she says. "But...don't let the rumors get to you, okay?"

At this, I narrow my eyes at her. But I ask, "Why do you say that?"

She replies, "Well, I've helped with a similar situation before...," then her eyes close the way they'd close when you're in pain, "my best friend's often misunderstood too, all because of her looks...," then she recovers herself. "Ah, s-sorry, I didn't mean to drag on like that."

I breathe a little. It's strange, seeing someone so plainly good, so soon after Kana. It's something I don't deserve. Someone who shouldn't have anything to do with the pain I know she's feeling.

"Can we talk?" I ask her. "It'll only be for a bit."

She blinks, "May I ask what about...?"

She looks at me and I realize this is gonna be harder than I thought.

* * *

When Ryuji doesn't appear for ten minutes, she goes to find him. When she finds him, she finds that he's in the middle of a conversation with someone else. The conversation isn't going very well, judging by how she can hear their voices from where she is.

"...what are you planning to do to Mr. Kamoshida?"

Ann Takamaki.

Makoto's heard the rumors. About Kamoshida, about Takamaki, about his dealings with _girls_. The boys snigger. The girls _say_ they brush the rumors off, but the stinkeye they often give to Takamaki betrays them. Takamaki and Kamoshida are rather close, perhaps too close.

Kamoshida talks to her after classes. Sometimes, before. Often gives her rides on her way home. Strange for a teacher, but nobody questions it overtly. Of course rumors would sprout between the two of them. But perhaps there is some truth to them after all. Why would she ask about Kamoshida, otherwise? Is it _that_ obvious that Sakamoto is trying to bring him down?

"I see, I getcha," Sakamoto says then. "Of course you'd ask that. You're all buddy-buddy with him, after all."

Sakamoto hits where it stings, of course.

"This has nothing to do with you, Sakamoto!"

He's not an ignoble person, but even Makoto's surprised at how abrasive he can be. She's reminded of Kanzaki, bitterly enough. But didn't Takamaki and he know each other? Were they not old friends? Makoto recalls seeing them together in Shujin in years past. Honestly, it's a little disconcerting to see them acting so antagonistic towards each other.

"If ya found out what he's been doing behind your back, you'd dump 'im right away."

At that point, Takamaki's eyes widen. "Behind my back...?"

Sakamoto doesn't answer her with anything else than, "You wouldn't get it..."

Takamaki grunts then, after a long period of silence, "People are talking about you. I was just trying to warn you, that's all. You wanna be a jerk about it, then fine. I don't care."

She leaves in a huff, blistering. Sakamoto just watches her leave, as he doesn't know what else he can say or do to her.

When Makoto gets to him, he grunts out, "Why's she gotta be so aggressive all the time...?"

"You could be a little less rough around the edges, yourself," Makoto replies. "We could have gotten information out of her."

"She doesn't know a thing about Kamoshida's skeevier stuff...," he groans, rubbing the back of his head. "'Sides, she's prolly willing to defend him. His reputation goes down the toilet, so does hers. Even more than it already has..."

"How do you know of her, anyway?" Makoto asks then. "You two seemed...familiar with each other, at least."

He shakes his head, "We just both went to the same middle school. Anyways, about actual important stuff...I got nothin' on my end," he says gravely. "No luck finding anything about Kamoshida from any o' the students under 'im. You got nothing, either?"

"Nobody was willing to tell me anything, either," Makoto replies. "But I am thinking that we _might_ have a lead on someone."

Sakamoto's eyes widen. "Who?"

"Yuki Mishima," is her reply.

"Mishima...," mutters Sakamoto. "True. I always see the guy with bruises on 'im. But what makes you think he's gonna be willing to cough anything up ? He doesn't have any real special things going for him in any of the clubs he's part of..."

"But Kamoshida uses him often, as a lackey. Telling other students what is and isn't going to happen. Events, changes in the curriculum. Whenever he needs to talk to someone for any reason, he has Mishima tell them to go to the faculty office. Mishima puts up with it...like everyone else does."

She's the student council president. She knows all this, because she observes. She has to. She's responsible for the students' safety. But in the end, even though she's been observing and observing...she never saw any of this horrible stuff coming.

Sakamoto then declares, "Let's go find 'im before he leaves, then," bringing her out of her self-pitying.

No time for that. No time for anything else. Focus on what's ahead. Never stop making Kamoshida pay.

* * *

We're in the cafeteria. Lots of people. Enough to blend into a crowd.

"Your name is Shiho Suzui, correct?" I ask her.

She nods, "How did you know...?"

"I found you on Shujin forums. You're on the volleyball team, under Suguru Kamoshida."

She flinches at the mention of his name, but quickly recovers: "Yes..."

"I'm sorry to ask you what I'm about to ask you so suddenly. But it's very important that you answer. If this conversation gets too much, you can tell me and we can drop it then and there."

She blinks. "What do you want to know...?"

"Is Suguru Kamoshida abusing people in the volleyball team?"

She freezes up for a moment. She opens her mouth, obviously jolted and trying to cough up a reply, probably a lie. Then she reclines in her seat, holding herself. She says this next, and she says it so quietly I barely even hear her: "Why are you even...?"

"If he is...I can't just let him go on the way he is."

She looks at me. She's wary; not necessarily antagonistic, but not without caution. "How did you know?" she asks then.

"People coming from the gym in bandages," I reply, deciding to leave out talk of Palaces. "It's obvious, once you really get a look."

"Why are you trying to stop it?" she asks. "Y-you're a new student, why're you...?" then she stops herself, her voice turning monotonous. "It's none of your business..."

"Sorry to say, but it is," I reply. "I'm planning to stop him my way; a _peaceful_ way, if you will. But I know of people who're planning to do things so much worse to him than I ever could. If I stop him before then, I've a chance of preventing that from happening."

"Stop him...," she mutters weakly. "You can't stop him."

I don't reply for a while. "And why is that?"

"Everyone knows," she replies. "Teachers. Other students. I heard even other people's parents, they...," she shakes her head. "It's in the system. You can't stop it. Everyone just keeps their heads down, because they know not to cause trouble. How're you even planning on _stopping_ this? What can you do?"

I lean back in my seat, "Get evidence. Gradually get people on my side. Convince them to talk. Starting with you."

She shakes her head, "They won't talk. The only reason I'm even telling you this is because I know it won't take off. They've been faced with so much. They're not gonna give it all up now. Not even if you record their confessions."

I blink at her. Removing the phone from my pocket. "Now, how'd you know about this?" I ask her.

"Thought popped in my head when you talked to me about getting evidence," she half-smiled. "Didn't think you actually...," she sighed. "What're you even doing this for?"

"I hate him," I say simply. "And I hate people like him."

"Oh." She purses her lips, "I thought it was to make things better for other people..."

"Sorry. But I'm not doing this for people. I'm doing this to make sure he gets put behind bars without much issue."

"You can't avoid that," she replies. "He made it big before coming here. You putting him behind bars'll cause panic for the school. Even if you expose everything he's hiding—" she shudders again, suddenly grasping her upper arms, "—you won't...you won't change anything..."

My eyes widen at her, my brows furrowing. "Did...did he...?"

She doesn't answer me. And that's the only answer I'll ever need.

"You won't change anything, not like this. Nobody'll help you," she mutters, trying to hold back something crawling up her throat. "Nobody's going to help you..."

"What's going on here?"

She and I turn. Girl with pigtails. Foreign. Platinum-blonde. Scowling at me. "Shiho...?"

"A-Ann," she stammers out.

This _Ann_ girl pulls Suzui aside, glaring at me. She quickly turns to Suzui, asks her, "Are you okay? What happened, why're you crying?" Suzui puts her hands to her cheeks and looks shocked. Ann turns to me, "What did you _do_?"

"I was just asking her questions."

"Don't play dumb with me!" she grunts. "If you hurt her, I'll—!"

"A-Ann!" Suzui cries out, clutching her friend's arm. "P-please...he didn't do anything...!"

Ann immediately stops. She turns to Suzui, looks at her, and immediately calms herself. But she turns back to me, glares, and her face becomes unlike a person's. She holds Suzui's hand then, pulling her away from me as the bell rings and we have to return to our tasks as students. She leaves me as I stand there, nowhere near my intended goal. Not even a single step closer to what I wish to accomplish.

Someone with green eyes is watching over me. Before she can even say a word, I brush past her and focus myself on deciding just _what_ I could do next, with the information I've been given.

* * *

After school, Niijima and Sakamoto see Mishima at the entrance gates, walking out with his bag in his hand. He's got bandages over his face and his arm, and he looks like every single step he takes breaks something inside him. Sakamoto's the first to talk to him, and of course when he does it he gets all up in his face. "Hey, got a second?"

Makoto really should have a talk with him about that.

"Sakamoto...?" Mishima mutters, then seeing Makoto. "A-and Niijima-senpai, too...!?"

She sees the dark wrinkles in his eyes, the flecks of purple and red settling on his cheeks. His voice is weak and it takes him a lot of effort just to talk, and Makoto can even see the welt on his cheek from when Kamoshida knocked him out cold with a volleyball to his face. This just makes her angrier, and it's at this point she realizes that even she can be like Sakamoto, if she lets herself.

"Sorry for keeping you, but we'd just like a word," she says to him.

Of course, Sakamoto cuts in again. "Kamoshida's been _coaching_ you, right? You sure it's not just physical abuse?"

"Sakamoto," Makoto whispers then, pulling him over to her. "Don't be so rash!"

"We're getting down to brass tacks; I'm just trying to get an answer directly," he defensively replies. "No use dancing around the issue."

"Is that how you spoke to everyone else you questioned today?" she asks.

He blinks, "I-is that bad?"

Makoto just shakes her head, about to accost him, but Mishima talks again. "C-certainly not!"

They both see it plain in his eyes. And on his face, on his arm, and they'd probably see it all over his body if he was naked right then and there.

Sakamoto's gruff again, and Makoto lets him be. "What're you talking all polite for? We saw him spike you today, right in the face."

"That was just...," he whimpers then, his voice cracking _just_ a little, "because I wasn't good at the sport..."

"That doesn't explain all the other bruises you got," Sakamoto says, sighing in something like concern.

Mishima glares at him then. "They're from practice!" he shouts quickly.

This isn't getting them anywhere, Makoto realizes. This isn't doing anything. At this rate, they'll lose their only lead. Unless something changes the game, they're gonna be stuck with nothing for the thousandth time today.

But then the game changes.

"What's going on here?" Kamoshida asks, suddenly. He then turns to Mishima, "Mishima, isn't it time for practice?"

Makoto sees Mishima's face crinkle as he replies, "I-I'm not feeling well today..."

Kamoshida just shakes his head, like he can't (or doesn't) believe it. "Maybe you're better off quitting, then. You're never gonna improve your form, unless you show up to practice."

"Didn't you hear?" grunts Sakamoto then, getting up into Kamoshida's face now. "He ain't feeling well."

"Well, Mishima?" Kamoshida just _says_ , like Sakamoto's not even there, "You coming to practice or not?"

Mishima just caves, then and there. "I'll go..."

Kamoshida nods that slimy nod, and he turns to Sakamoto then, "Any more trouble, you'll be gone from this school for good." Sakamoto just curses then, as Kamoshida turns to me, "And Niijima...what're you doing here, with him? Forgive me for intruding, but he hardly seems the kind of guy you'd keep for company."

He's smirking and he's laughing and chuckling, trying to pass it off and look like a rational human being. Which makes Makoto less rational.

"You have an amazing spike," she manages to say. Mishima and even Sakamoto look at her like she's just fired a pistol into her foot.

Kamoshida just shakes his head then, knowing where her loyalties lie, now. "Just don't get in the way of my practice. All these unsettling rumors are making the students anxious, after all."

"That's your own fault," mutters Sakamoto.

Kamoshida grunts, "This won't get us anywhere. Let's go, Mishima." He turns his back on the three of them, and then tells the three of them, "Shujin Academy is a place where those with aspirations come to learn. Unworthy students like yourselves have no right to be here."

And all Mishima can say is, "Yes, sir."

Kamoshida then leaves, Sakamoto muttering, "He's gonna pay for this..."

But Mishima says, "There's no point." To this, both Sakamoto and Niijima turn to him. "Proving that he's physically abusing us...is meaningless. Everybody knows. The principal, our parents...they all know. They all keep quiet."

"This has gotta be a joke...!" is all Sakamoto can say. He's horrified, and so's Makoto. But Mishima keeps talking.

"Don't be a pain. You don't understand what I'm going through. You should know, of all people, that nothing you'll do is gonna help."

He then leaves Makoto and Sakamoto there. And all at once, neither of them know what to say. But they both know what they're gonna do. Makoto turns to Sakamoto, her gaze firm and her hands balled into fists. Sakamoto nods at her as well, expression thickening. "I'll try to convince the other guys...," he says. "That's...all I can do."

Makoto nods then.

This isn't over. Not until she says so.

* * *

Days pass again into minutes. And I'm no closer to finding a way to end Kamoshida's life without having to resort to Palaces.

When it happens, I'm having a class.

I think of Shiho Suzui. Suffering, weeping in silence and in pain. Her supposed friend not even knowing what's going on behind the scenes. Ann Takamaki is sitting right in front of me, apathetically staring out the window. She's agitated with me but she doesn't show it. If she only knew. If they all only knew. If it's brought to everyone's attention, shouted out from the top of the world, they'd all lash out. Because nobody wants to say they knowingly supported an ephebophile.

But I'm thinking of things that shouldn't matter. Not this very moment. I should be looking out the window. I should be paying attention to my surroundings. I don't know how my directionless thinking will cost me. Green eyes are looking at me still, but every time I turn away from them they flash with specks of yellow. I shouldn't be keeping my attention on them. I shouldn't be so indulgent in myself. And because of my unrelenting self-pity, I am too late.

It happens quickly, too quickly to make sense. Someone large and lumbering and annoyed at all of us is writing on a chalkboard. But then someone rises up from out of their seat and gawks. He's talking about someone, standing up on a rooftop. Says _she's gonna jump_ , that's what makes all of us check.

I remember my conversation with a girl. I turn to the rooftop and I see her. She's standing there. That girl I spoke to days ago. Ponytail and all. She's standing now. Right behind the gated fence of the rooftop of the school. Everyone soon gets up out of their seats and they just watch because they have to. They watch because they _need_ to see this. They can't do anything else but watch, even as she starts the climb up the fence.

They stare. They gawk. The clamoring begins, _Is she gonna jump!?_ _Don't tell me she'll jump! Somebody do something!_ Everyone _says these things_ but nobody's doing anything, the teacher's trying to corral everyone back in the classroom, but even he's taken aback.

I'm watching it happen.

I'm watching it happen.

What am I doing here?

"What are you doing here?"

I briefly see something red as I run. I run past my teacher, past the students. I hear people, hear them talking, just staring out the window watching. Like it's not even something they can stop. Like they're on YouTube or BestGore. Treating this like a spectacle. A blur of men and women just watching the nightmare unfold.

I remember hellfire. A red scarf is fluttering in the air. Green and yellow eyes are all at once on me. I hear laughter. I remember a curse, towering and lumbering and blasting me with fifteen Hiroshimas. I remember a child with wide eyes, staring at me as I'm reading her a book. I remember a girl in a train. I remember embracing her in the sheets of my bed.

I remember a Wolf. A gun. Shooting. Sinful Shells. Faceless Gods. Unstoppable creatures of destruction, coming alive from my own iniquity. This isn't right. This isn't the way the world should be. It's not a spectacle. It's a person. And she's alive and not dead and not in a coma, not without a mother or a father or a daughter _she's alive and she's gonna stay alive if I can help it_.

My legs catch fire as I run faster, my eyes burn in the wind as I force myself forward. Before I know it I'm out of the building, having squeezed my way through people and students all just _watching_. Before I know it I'm running up the stairs and I see that the people are still just _watching_. Before I know it her hands are in mine and I'm hunched over the fence and I'm trying to pull her up.

I managed to get to her just as she got herself over the fence.

There's a girl in my hands. Screaming, shocked, terrified. She's wriggling and she's thrashing about, but I won't let her go. My grip is tight around her wrists. She's hanging off the edge of a school building, and she's telling me _pleading_ with me to let her go, using her weight to try and swing herself out of my grip.

But I won't let her go because I can't, because if I do I won't be able to live with myself, because _she_ 's watching me from behind, I feel _her_ green eyes on the back of my head, I feel the weight of _her_ gaze pressing down on me and I know that if I ever let what could happen here _happen_ then I'll burn forever. She's crying now, she's screaming and she's bawling, my body's bent in half, my upper body's hanging off the edge and I will not ever let go.

The people from the windows keep watching, even as I manage to muster up the strength to pull myself and her over the fence. She's still thrashing about, screaming, begging me to let her go, and I keep pulling her away. I keep pulling her, I can't let her go. She's pleading with me. Pleading. My grip just gets tighter, I tell her to _shut up_ to _stop it_ to _calm down_ but she won't listen.

And because she doesn't listen, because the creature I've sold my soul to for some reason won't give me the strength to _pull a girl up from the edge of a building_ , the sound she makes when she falls isn't a loud _thud_. It's more a soft _crash_.

Of course what comes next is, two people enter through the rooftop door and see us. Blonde-haired young man. Sister of the woman who prosecuted me. But I don't see them.

I only see a girl with green eyes standing behind them. She is melancholy, her eyes dull and her brow furrowed. She's looking at me in a way I can't describe; I don't know if she hates me, pities me, or is disappointed in me.

It is at this point I realize that Sakamoto's tapping my shoulder, his voice shaky and raised as he asks me what just happened. I don't know how to answer him, he's grabbing me by my shoulders and screaming things but all I see is _her_. Not Kana, Suzui. I keep on rewinding it in my blighted mind, it keeps on searing into my memory as I remember her eyes and her shouts and her tears. Is she dead? I wonder. Is she gone, like Masako and her grandparents?

I hear the crowds clamoring below, people swarming down at the very bottom of the world. Someone crying. A siren. Old men telling people they need to stay indoors, to reject the sane and rational response that they have, to want to see what kind of disaster that's happened. A girl with platinum blonde pigtails, crying to her friend, staying at her side as she lies there motionlessly.

Kana's standing behind Sakamoto and Niijima, and her green eyes are boring deep into my red ones. I'm looking at her sadly and I don't care who's watching. I don't care about anything else. She's not dead, she'll never be dead, not so long as I remember her and remember what I did.

My teeth chatter as I escape everything. And the thoughts start coming in, of all those innocent people suffering in their attempts to simply live out their lives, at the hands of bad people who only saw them as toys to play with.

Kamoshida, I can see him. I can see him in his chair, not even knowing what's just happened. Even if he were to ever know, he wouldn't care. Someone with his pride, his pettiness, his refusal to see himself as nothing more than the king of a castle...he'd never be able to care. His ego wouldn't let him change. I've seen his kind before, literally killed his kind before. He's nothing. He's only human.

And that's the problem, isn't it? That's always been the problem. Right from the beginning of time. And it won't ever stop being the problem. No matter how much you'd like to change it, no matter how hard you'll fight. There'll always be a Kamoshida out there.

There's always going to be a _Shido_ out there.

And all at once I'm standing in front of nobody. I'm on the rooftop of Shujin. Niijima and Sakamoto have left. Left me alone to wallow in myself.

Once teachers reach me on the rooftop, they talk to me. They're telling me I did the right thing, trying to save her; that I was a hero, courageous, all the things I know I'm not. I don't tell them I didn't do it for her.

I don't tell them why I did what I did; not even when they advise me to go home and rest up, telling me that I've done so much already. They are speaking, but their words don't matter. They look like people and they act like people, but all I see are living corpses burning in a place where worms cannot die and the fire does not fade. Burning forever and ever.

I can't change it. There's nothing I can do.

My hands have done nothing but try and fail to save people. Innocent people who've done absolutely nothing wrong and deserve nothing but to live their lives freely, without any fear or hurt or pain. But in the end people keep on suffering and losing everything for no reason at all.

There's nothing I can do.

"Are you certain?" Girl with yellow eyes and a red scarf, staring at me in the middle of the hallway. Asking me to destroy myself. I brush past her, but she keeps on talking. "You know there's a whole host of things you can do."

I walk past her, but she follows me...and her words sink into my ears.

"You can descend into that Hell of a mind that he has," she says, "cure the poison he feeds to society."

There is nothing I can do.

"He's a monster. Another cancer. A vile fiend that must be expunged from the world. Unlike those people you've read about, you can grab him yourself, twist the flesh around his neck with your own bare hands. End him, like he's ended so many others."

There is nothing I can do.

"Don't you care for justice, young Cavalier?" she mockingly questions, swivelling to the front of me. "Have you lost your compassion?"

I brush past her and move on, stomping through the halls which won't ever ever end. People pass me by, fragments of themselves, glass stands that will shatter the moment I touch them. Cold, unfeeling, unmoving. They don't matter. None of them matter. All that matters is that I need to get home. I'm walking; but the hallway I'm in won't ever ever end. Every step I take the end just keeps going a thousand feet away from me. I must keep walking, must never stop running.

"Was what you had done back then _wrong_?" she asks, her fingers in all my stab wounds.

Now, the hallway I'm in twists and turns on itself and what once was concrete and stone transforms into something unknowable. Lockers turn into arms. Windows turn into eyes. Wooden floorboards turn into thousands of bodies. I hear screaming noises, women and children of course. And all the things they could have said, should have said, had not said; they sound like they're being boiled alive and they're calling for help, the children, they're asking where _Daddy_ is and why he's not here to save them.

Because of course they are.

Now...

"You remember having the silver in your arms, seeing her on the ground, the bald man bleeding out at your feet. Every minute of it, don't you crave all of that again? The cancers will keep spreading."

The glass people transform into ceramic things, like angels; they laugh at me despite not moving at all, they cheer me on, call me a Prince, more fitting to be a Jester; they jitter and crack as they jitter but laugh at me all the while, and their laughs sound like car batteries exploding and fetuses strangling themselves by their umbilical cords in their mothers' wombs.

And I am back in the land of hellfire, back in the world where people are burning because a thousand-foot tall curse is writhing about like a monster, shooting nuclear tides of nightmare from its unsightly maw. I remember killing its newborn and killing it because a _Wolf_ had given me a gun, a _Wolf_ made me kill it, a _Wolf_ made me kill her, kill the only person who ever mattered.

And I see wolves everywhere now, red and black with lightning eyes, like flying daggers. I see the shimmer of the gun and the bevor and the visor, the Wolf is looking at me now as millions of people are behind it writhing and dying, their mouths bursting wide open and their inner monstrosities eating them alive from the inside.

She's in my arms again she's in my bed she's writhing she's screaming and she's gone again. Her daughter's in my arms she's reading a book she's crying and being dropped and she's dead again. Her mother's smiling at me and she's treating me with some modicum of respect and she's giving me a ticket and she's killing everything in a wash of red again.

The red burns through my eyes, into my lungs, burrowing into myself. She'll dance on my grave if she ever wakes up, and if I have to burn in fire if that means she'll reach Heaven then fine. Fine. Fine. Let it happen, let me burn forever and ever.

Just give them back. Please, give them back. They were all that mattered. "Give them back," I murmur then, falling to my knees. "Give her back."

And as I leave Shujin, I stand outside the school gates, hollow and shivering. People pass me by as I look up to the dark clouds of the evening, and I finally decide to talk again.

"You'd both hate what I've done with my life. And what I'm about to do next...," I shudder now, staring at the ground as my hands ball into fists and my mouth deforms into a scowl, "you'll hate that most of all."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Actually kind of interested in changing the pairing somewhat.**

 **Honestly, I was interested with the character of Shiho Suzui when she first appeared, and was rather disappointed with how small a role she ended up having. She was a nice, caring girl who expressed concern towards Akira despite his circumstances _and_ despite barely even knowing the guy. She was a nice character to juxtapose with the extreme jerk I'd decided to roleplay Akira as :P**

 **Any thoughts on the matter?**

 **EDIT: ADDED IN ENTIRE SECTIONS THAT I FELT WERE NEEDED TO BETTER PACE THE CHAPTER.  
**


	20. Chapter I, VIII

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

Suguru Kamoshida has nothing to feel guilty about.

He knows this. It is his right. Even when the sirens blare and the crowds form, even when he hears what's happened through the sorrowful whispers of his fellow teachers, nothing stirs. Nothing has to. He doesn't need to feel anything.

He can only imagine, now, what Kobayakawa will tell him. The fat old man's been keeping him under radar for so long, piling up all his expectations and desires, always pinning his hopes on him, telling him of how brilliant his presence _alone_ makes the school out to be.

He knows Kobayakawa won't be very happy with this at all. But of course, that's always been the case. It doesn't matter. None of it ever did. The girl chose to do it herself. He didn't tell her to jump off the roof. No doubt she'd been very emotional over what had happened between them, but it wasn't like he meant to hurt her.

He's gentle. He's not like the others. He knows he isn't.

He's more than they are. More than all of them can even believe he is. He's been places they've never been, nor will ever be. He's heard thousands cheering his name. He's run miles. Fought through and suffered through things that'd make the strongest men in the world weep their eyes out. He's done things that mattered, things that won't ever be forgotten in the annals of history.

Right?

It doesn't matter that his name appears rather infrequently on Google searches. It doesn't matter that he's hardly mentioned except in passing by a large portion of sports outlets. Only ever _the Olympian who became a school teacher_. Like the other half of that moniker's some burdensome thing...

He _knows_ he's made an impact. He _knows_ his life isn't completely meaningless, that at least he's managed to do something.

And he knows that there are some things he's done that can be considered _wrong_. But he can't be blamed. He can't be blamed for them. It's all the expectations people have, all the glories that have passed him by, all the times his name's never mentioned. It's all that.

He sees the gold medal hanging from the foam bulletin board, kept there by a thumbtack. He stares at it for the longest time. He can't be in the wrong. He knows it. He's not trying to impress anyone. He doesn't need to.

He's Suguru Kamoshida.

"What did you do."

He hears Sakamoto. He's behind him, panting and wheezing and sweating like a mad dog. The sight of him revolts Suguru, makes him want to do something unpleasant.

He can't stand it when they get too brazen.

* * *

 **\- SECTION VIII -  
...I'm revolted and afraid and amazed and in love all over again.**

* * *

When Ryuji inevitably confronts Kamoshida, it goes about as well as Makoto expected it would.

"What did you do to her!?"

Makoto finds Ryuji in the PE faculty office. He's screaming, his eyes are bloodshot, and he's hunched over like an animal. Kamoshida's just sitting in a folding chair, staring at his laptop, not even bothering to register either of the students confronting him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kamoshida shrugs, waving his hand about and feigning ignorance.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Ryuji exclaims then, kicking down another folding chair in the vicinity.

It's obvious, really. He and Niijima had done their research as well; looked up the various members of the team on the forums. They couldn't get to Suzui in time, couldn't ask her because they weren't looking in the right places. Kamoshida's casual reaction to it all simply seals the deal, here and now.

Kamoshida then turns to him, glaring now, "That is _enough_!"

"What you did, it wasn't coaching..."

Makoto and Ryuji turn. Mishima's there, behind the both of them. Having followed them quietly, his face still wounded and bandaged up. He's staring at the ground, he's not even looking at any of them. But he's speaking up, and standing on his own two feet.

Kamoshida's voice turns guttural as he sneers, "What did you say?"

"You...you ordered me to call Suzui here...!" Mishima confesses, clutching at the hairs on his head and pulling at them in his self-loathing. "I can only imagine what you did to her...!"

"You're going on and on about things you have no proof of...," mutters Kamoshida, finally getting up off his seat to face the three castigating him. "You're making these claims because you can't be a regular on the team. Am I wrong?"

Of course, Makoto realizes. He's a volleyball coach. He's great at deflection.

"That's not what this is about!" Mishima cries out.

"Even if it is exactly as you imagine it to be, hypothetically speaking...," Kamoshida mutters, "in the end, what can you do about it?" He leans in, grinning in Sakamoto's face, "We just got a call from the hospital. Suzui's in a coma, and her chances of recovery are slim. How would someone like that make a statement, I wonder...?"

Makoto's eyes bulge as she remembers her dream, the one where she attacks and kills all the gutter trash staining the world, becomes the scourge of evil that everyone takes up banners following.

Kamoshida puts a hand to his head, feigning sorrow, "Poor girl. There's little chance of her recovering, I hear..."

Mishima turns his wide eyes groundwards, looking like he won't ever be able to live with himself again. Ryuji's eyes just sharpen as his teeth clench, and Makoto keeps herself steady as the words swarm inside her head.

Ryuji's hasty again. He's angry. He's unafraid. The adrenaline makes him want to do things, things that'd send him to jail. He glances at the folding chair he kicked down just a second ago. His fist opens.

"This again...?" Kamoshida murmurs, spotting Ryuji's glance. "Are we gonna have to resort to another case of _self-defense_?"

"Shut up," grunts Ryuji simply. "Just shut up."

"Or what? You'll make me?" Kamoshida laughs.

Ryuji can't take it anymore. He leans down, grabs the folding chair, lifts it like he's a wrestler in a No-DQ match and is about to just _go to town_ on Kamoshida, Kamoshida who's still smiling because he's seen a million different avenues where the chair could come for him and knows every which way to counter the hits, knows that in the end none of this will matter, that in the end Sakamoto will just be _nothing like always._

But then someone steadies his hand.

"Wh-why're you...!?"

Makoto Niijima. Student council president.

Kamoshida sneers again. The girl has a backbone, but she's always kept it largely to the students. To teachers, never. Always following orders. The girl has a need to be useful, a need to do something right. But only when it ever benefits her. When'd she get so altruistic?

"Don't let him get to you," she tells him.

"But still...!"

"Good work, Niijima. That almost makes up for our little run-in a while ago...," he mutters, grinning. He turns to Ryuji then, closing his eyes and folding his arms. "No need to hold back, though. Why not attack me? Oh, but you _can't_. Of course you can't."

"No. We can."

Ryuji and Mishima _and_ Kamoshida all turn to Makoto. She's staring at her PE teacher. Glaring at him now, her bright eyes turning red in the light of the room.

"We can do something to you that undoes everything you've ever built for yourself up to this point."

Now _that_ gets Kamoshida's attention. He shifts Ryuji aside, marching close to Makoto, so close she can smell his breath, smell the sweat on him. "You're walking a tightrope here, Niijima. It's almost respectable, really. Standing up for your fellow students...it's sad that you won't see reason. Siding with Ryuji Sakamoto...I thought you, out of these three, would've been the sensible one."

"It's all par for the course for you," she says simply.

"What are you talking about?"

"Can't take criticism, so you throw your opposition to the side. Slap around a few students, because you can make them out to be delinquents anyway. Can't impress anyone your age with being a gym teacher, so you get girls too young and too scared to refuse. You haven't done anything meaningful, not as a teacher, and _not_ even as an athlete. Your name comes up so little in Olympics retrospectives it's hilarious."

"What?"

"What next, you'll kick me and Sakamoto and Mishima and everyone else who tells you right to your face how much of a failure you are? You'll stand there in the gym, watching over all those students who you _think_ admire you when really they make fun of you as much as they would any other teacher? You'll take it and you'll watch, and you'll keep going after more girls who're barely even _legal_? It's so petty it's embarrassing."

"You think I need to _impress_ you?"

"I'll save you the trouble," Niijima grunts then. "Hand me the forms. I'll expel myself right here and now, with my own pen."

"You smug little _—"_ he grabs Niijima by the scruff of her neck, pulling her closer and growling now, "you think I'm really doing all of this because I need to _—_!?"

"Oh, expel me now. _Kill_ me," she says dramatically, _mockingly_ , before pushing herself off of him and screaming, "Do whatever you want with me!" and slamming her hand down on the table, making everyone jump. "Like you've done with so many others! In the end, you'll still be stuck here; you'll still be _nothing_."

Kamoshida doesn't say anything for a long time.

Then he sits back down in his seat, and finally decides to reply:

"Everyone present right now will be expelled. I'm reporting you all at the next board meeting."

"You can't make a decision like that!" Mishima exclaims.

"Who cares what you have to say?" bitterly responds Kamoshida. "You all come into my office, threaten me, call me a monster on things you've got no proof I've even done. You're just as guilty as they are, Mishima. If only by association."

Mishima's turn to glare, now, even as Kamoshida continued on.

"To think you didn't even know why I kept someone as talentless as you on my team. You act like you're a victim, but you leaked Kanzaki's baggage to the school."

Ryuji and Makoto turn to Mishima, whose hands ball into fists as his face twists in agony.

"Mishima...?" Ryuji mutters. "Wait, you were the one who...? I thought...!"

"He told me to do it...," Mishima replies, clutching at his head again. "Even though everyone would've known anyway, he told me to...! He wanted it to get spread around, wanted Kanzaki-san out of Shujin...!"

Makoto and Ryuji were left speechless. Just watching Mishima writhe, as Kamoshida let out a cackle as though he were some villain.

"Now, are we finished here? You're all expelled. You're done for. Your futures are mine to take. Now get out of my sight."

"You're not getting away with this...!" shouts Ryuji.

"You'll eat your words soon enough," says Makoto.

"Sure, sure," he responds, amused. "You sound like children. I don't understand what you're thinking, but you're free to give it a try. All you can do is wait for your disposal."

Makoto sees something blue and black in her peripheral vision. She sees a black cat standing there, on one of the desks in the office. Staring at her. Tilting its head and letting out a soft mewl. Makoto knows what to do now. For the first time since all this nonsense happened. She knows exactly what to do.

As Makoto and Ryuji and Mishima all lurch themselves out the door, the gears start turning in Makoto's head and everything starts falling into place.

There is a dream Makoto Niijima has, from time to time. She doesn't stop, in the dream, and she doesn't want to. She pulls the trigger and she keeps pulling, her revolver never running out. She sees their grins fade as cold reality bursts in their chests. All they can do and all they want to do is run and hide and live.

Who ever said dreams don't come true?

* * *

"Remember, we're not beating him up. We're just going to steal his distorted desires away."

The cat's words ring hollow as Ryuji seethes, his fist on a vending machine. They're out again, in the courtyard, underneath another canopy. The school day's over, and they've got a ton of things to do that don't even remotely involve homework. Mishima left them moments ago, said he'd go home, and nobody blamed him.

"That's basically beating him up, though," sighs Niijima. "I can't say I'm not in agreement with that idea."

"You've made your minds up about this?" asks Morgana. "How he might suffer a mental shutdown, and all that?"

"I don't care," mutters Ryuji. "I don't care what happens to him. Let him jump off a cliff. Don't matter. None of it does. He deserves everything coming his way. Someone almost died 'cause of him."

Makoto would have objected to this, if she hadn't seen it all firsthand. The depravity, the hubris, the smug grin on that chiselled face of his. She's in complete agreement with it, however.

The police can't help. No evidence. The students _won't_ help, and neither will the teachers. They're all trapped in the status quo, unwilling to overturn it lest they risk themselves. So it's up to them.

They literally have no choice. If they're gonna stop Kamoshida from hurting anyone else, they have to do it. They're the only ones who can.

"Seconded," Makoto says then.

"Then it's settled," Morgana smiles visibly.

"By the way...," Ryuji says, clearing his throat, "you've done this before...is getting rid of a Palace hard?"

"...when'd I ever say I did this before?" Morgana asks.

Makoto and Ryuji both look like they want to neuter him right then and there.

"Y-you were just _pretending_ to know!?" cries out Ryuji.

Morgana sees how Makoto's looking at him, and so he tries to save face, "N-no I wasn't, I just kinda thought it'd be fine i-if I just... _left_ out that little bit of information...!"

"Is it true you're getting expelled...?"

That semi-familiar voice makes everyone stir. They turn, and they see a woman with platinum-blonde pigtails looking at them sadly.

"Everyone's talking about it," Ann Takamaki continues, her eyes kept on Ryuji most of all.

Ryuji grunts, "At it again, huh...?" then he turns to face Takamaki head-on, deciding to be abrasive once more. "You came all the way here just to tell us that?"

"You're gonna deal with Kamoshida," she says pointedly, causing Ryuji's cold exterior to falter. "It's more than obvious. Everyone knows you and Niijima-senpai've been dogging him." She then turns to Makoto, demanding, "Lemme in on this, too."

Ryuji's taken aback, while Makoto's actually more than a little interested in this offer of hers. Morgana's just blinking in astonishment, lower jaw agape. _C-cute..._

"I can't just stand back, not after what happened to Shiho," Ann continues.

"This has nothing to do with you...," mutters Ryuji, cold and heartless all over again. "Don't butt in."

Makoto knows his tactic. He's trying to get her away from them as soon as possible; it's for her own good, really. She might not be all that well-equipped to face the Shadows in the Palace. One false step, and she's impaled by a greatsword. Still, Makoto knows that perhaps they'll need the help.

They got swarmed last time. They'll most likely need more people on their side, if they're ever gonna actually try and pull this nonsense off.

"Shiho's my friend!" Ann exclaims, marching over to Ryuji, who rears backwards from seeing the veins in her eyes. Ann seethes for a moment, trying to breathe and regain herself. She inhales deeply then, caling herself down, before turning to Makoto and coming clean. "You've heard the rumors. About me. About Kamoshida. Both of you. I know it."

Makoto nods simply, keeping her eyes on Ann all the while.

Ann asks, looking over her shoulder, trying to see if anyone else is in the vicinity, "Can we sit down for a sec?"

Makoto turns to the cat, then to Ryuji. Then back to Ann, "Of course."

* * *

Makoto and Ann are sitting on a bench, Ryuji cross-legged on a patch of grass. The cat at his side.

Ann leans forward in her seat, sighing. "It started when in the eighth grade," she said. "At first it was just _looks_. He'd eye me weirdly, and I'd never be able to really confront him about it 'cause he'd just give me the creeps. Ninth grade, he began talking more. Talking to me, to the other girls whenever we'd do PE...but he'd talk to me the most. I'd be nice, I'd be courteous. Because I was too young to know what any of it really meant, even when I felt uneasy."

Ryuji can't help but cringe as he glares into the blades of grass at his shins. Because he knows that the attention Ann would get from boys has always been a thorn in her side. He knew then and he knows now that she's never been very good with handling that. He recalls the time he first heard the rumors circling around Ann, and how quickly he shared the opinions of the crowds. How quickly he turned, despite knowing her and knowing it wouldn't have been _like_ her to be attached to someone like...

And he feels worse than he ever has.

"Everyone says we're getting it on, but it's so not true," she says, sickened by all the things she's recounting. The words flung at her through hushed whispers, the times her shoes had been filled with things that'd made garbage men vomit, the leers Kamoshida and other grown men would give her all the time _everywhere._ "I don't like him. I don't want to be anywhere near him. He'd creep me out, but I'd try convincing myself I could endure. I just started justifying myself. _It's just advances, nothing more_. And I'm never convinced, but I felt I had to. Shiho was on the volleyball team, and if..."

She scowls then, and it's a scowl that Makoto can plainly see is one she's been keeping in herself for perhaps years.

"I didn't know what he'd do to her if I didn't get on his good side," she admits, sounding more strained with every word she'd say. "So I endured. The rumors, the advances, everything. I just endured, and I tried to tell myself none of it'd matter in the end. If I could just keep my head down for the rest of my school days, nothing'd happen. But I was...more wrong than I ever thought I could be."

"One day, he called me," she continues. "Weeks ago. I avoided giving him my number for the longest time. He told me to go to his place, after school. I knew exactly what he wanted, and when I turned him down, he said he'd take Shiho off as a regular on the team. I've been kissing up to him, keeping all this up for her sake, been telling myself that it'll all be okay if it's for her, but it's not, it's not, and it never will be ever again."

Ann's eyes turn unlike a person's eyes, and she lets it all out now. "It's all the same, every day. Same looks, same insults, same everything. It doesn't matter what happens. Shiho was all I had left in this sorry excuse of a school. You can't tell me I have no part in any of this. So I will help you, in whatever you're planning against Kamoshida. If it helps end his career, end his _life_ , end _him_ , I'll help. I'll do anything, I don't care. I'm sick of the rumors, I'm sick of Kamoshida's face, I'm sick of never being able to do anything for anyone, and I'm sick of always putting my face against the ground. You can't take me away from this."

Makoto understands, and though she has her reservations about it all, she can't help but imagine how their chances of survival would significantly increase with another member on the team. Just listening to Ann's story put a strain to her ears and caused a dull weight in her chest. But in the end reason beats emotion just this once, and Makoto makes a decision.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says then, having made a decision. "But we can't have you join."

"Why _not_?" exclaims Ann.

"It's too dangerous," Makoto replies. "What we're planning to do...his life's not the only one on the line."

"Of course I know the risks, of course I know the danger if we fail, but I'm willing to take it if _we can_ —!"

"It's more than just _danger_ ," Makoto says. Remembering Kanzaki's words. "Our lives and his...they're both at risk, in a very literal sense."

"What...?"

Makoto's remembering that conversation on the rooftop; Kanzaki's self-righteousness may be niggling incessantly at the back of her mind, yet she can admit that he had a point then and he has a point now. Ann Takamaki is emotional. Is upset, enraged, infuriated at the loss of her friend, at the hands of the monster that is Suguru Kamoshida. She has the potential to be a massive help against the Shadows in Kamoshida's Palace. But there is just as much a chance for her to end up doing something drastic and insane and horrible, something that'd prove Kanzaki right and make Kamoshida braindead or worse.

But Makoto then asks herself, _Can't the same be said for you_?

"I think it'd be great if she'd join," Morgana says. "Another helping hand'll always be useful."

Ann frowns then. "Wait, who else is here?"

"Wh-what?"

Ryuji and Makoto turn to Morgana, who brings a paw to his mouth.

"Wait," Ann says then, "did the cat just talk?"

Ryuji and Makoto turn to her, Ryuji being the first to vocalize, "Oh, man...!"

"It could talk the whole time...!?" exclaims Ann then, standing up from the bench.

"H-hold on, wait," Morgana says, lifting his paws upward at her, "I-I mean, this can all be explained if you could just calm down...!"

"And you both could _hear_ it?" Ann just asks Makoto and Ryuji incredulously.

"You just had to open your big mouth," Ryuji grunts, picking up Morgana by the scruff of his neck.

"W-wait...!" cries Morgana then, "Whenever I talk while I'm around and about the school nobody pays attention! Everyone just says they hear meowing! Only you guys can understand me!"

"You're serious," replies Ryuji.

"I wouldn't be joking at a time like this! We're so close...!" cries Morgana.

"W-wait, so only we can understand the cat!?" cries Ann. "What's even, what's going on!?"

It all clicks into Makoto's head right then and there. There is only one thing she, Ryuji, and Morgana all share; and it is something that they must have shared with Ann, as well.

"Please, check your phone," Makoto says to Ann, pulling out her own phone from her pocket.

"Wh-what for...?"

"For _this_ ," Makoto shows her the screen, and points to a large app that looks like a bloated red eye. "Is it in your phone?"

Ann clutches Makoto's phone and her jaw turns slack, "I-I've had this in my phone since the day Shiho...!" and she clutches at her head, "I-I've tried to delete it several times, but it'd always come back! Wh-why is it in _your_ phone!? What's going on...!?"

Ann looks at her strangely, and Makoto can't blame her for that.

"She has a Persona...," says Morgana.

Makoto turns to the cat. "Are you certain?"

"I-if she doesn't, then she very well can have one...," Morgana looks like he doesn't know what to say, but then quickly recovers, "Anyone can...if they're willing to face themselves."

"What are you talking about?" Ann asks then.

"Let's bring her to the entrance of the Palace! Just the entrance!" Morgana encourages. "There, she'll decide whether or not she wants to go through with it."

"We can't bring her to a place like that...!" exclaims Ryuji. "It's not...!"

Makoto sighs, turning to Ann, "Listen to me. Takamaki. What we're planning is something outright paranormal. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. We're going to delve into something beyond all this, beyond anything you've ever been through or experienced. Do you really want this? It'll be dangerous, to put it mildly. I'm not exaggerating in telling you that if this goes belly-up, your life'll be over. But if it works, we can stop Kamoshida from ruining anyone else's life. Are...you willing to make it happen?"

Ann for a moment looks like she doesn't know what to do, or what to say. Then she looks at her knees, and her eyes shine the way eyes would when a person would recall something unfathomably precious. Ann's face turns firm. Her lips purse, and it's a few seconds before she responds affirmatively, "I'll do anything."

Ryuji's mouth gapes as he lets out a hard breath. Morgana lets out as much a smile as a creature with a cat's maw can.

Makoto breathes, closing her eyes. She then holds out her hand to Ann, "Come with us."

And after an extremely brief moment of mild indecision, Ann takes the hand.

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him.

"Doing what?" he asks, sounding like he doesn't know at all what I'm talking about.

"What you did to Suzui. Why? What was the point?" I continue asking. "She did nothing to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, and I can feel the scowl crawling over his mouth.

"You know. Please, don't just shrug this off. With all due respect," I stop talking for a moment, unable to stomach the fact I'm in the same room as him. "With all due respect, please. Please answer me."

"Why should I? You're just making false allegations."

I respond, finding it in myself to look at him. "It's not too late. You can turn yourself in and—"

"Stop," he sighs, shaking his head.

"—you can _turn yourself in_ before any of this has to go bad—"

"What, are you threatening me?" he glares.

"No, no, I'm not, I'm just—"

He smirks disparagingly, "What, you're gonna convince _daddy_ to pay off some crooked cops and put me behind bars? You know what they'd do to guys like me in prison? That is, if the charges against me _are_ true..."

"They are," I say, seething at him now.

"You have no proof," he says numbly, like he's had this conversation before. "None of you do. Even if you did see this _thing_ you're accusing me of doing, which you couldn't have, you've nothing to back it up."

"You haven't answered my question. You know I'm telling the truth."

"Your question..."

"Why do any of it?" I ask him wearily. "You're just deflecting, without answering. Why? Why can't you just...? Don't you understand?"

"What's there to understand?" he sighs again, even more tiredly than before.

"Is it because you're suffocated?"

"What, what are you—?"

"Do you think people pile all their expectations on you? Does the pressure get to you that much?"

"What is this, are you trying to analyze me now? You aren't a psychologist, you know," he says, and he tries to say it in an amused tone of voice, but in the end he just sounds like he's struggling.

"Whatever you think you're doing, it doesn't justify a single thing you've done."

"That's enough," he says.

"You're hurting people. I don't know if you're aware of it, or if you aren't. But you are, and you need to stop."

" _I_ need to stop? You're making baseless accusations—"

"They're not baseless,"I say, my voice rising as I get angrier and angrier. It's happening again. The stress is building up, and the words are coming out. They're coming now and they won't stop. "You managed to get into the Olympics, but the resultant high came down faster than you expected and before you knew it, before you knew it everyone forgot you—"

He shakes his head, "Alright, this is just—"

"—nobody said your name anymore and the moment you got somewhere, the moment you got a position, people kept talking about you and who you used to be and what you aren't anymore—"

"Kid, you're going way out of line here."

"—and so you feel pressured, pressured to answer everyone's expectations of you and so because of all the pressure you take it out on kids who can't possibly fight back and all the frustration it builds it builds it builds, you abuse them in horrible inhuman ways because you need the validation of others' to make you feel like you're a good person—"

"That's enough!" he shouts, standing up and grabbing me by the scruff of my neck.

"You want to believe you're not a bad person," I say, having unlocked the greatest mystery of all.

He doesn't say anything for a long time, until the moment he unhands me. "Get out." I gather myself, and I slowly make my way over to the door. But then he talks again. "I don't need your pity. You think you can change me? You think I _want_ to change? Why would I want that? My life's perfect. I've done more in a decade than you or people _like_ you will ever be able to do. You have no future."

He grins, because he knows he's done it. And he continues, "If your claims were true? You'd still have nothing. Everyone you say I _abused_ would rather keep their mouths shut than report any of it. One of them's gone and jumped off a building. So to hell with you and your pity and your insufferable proselytizing. I'm still here," he points to the ceiling, "you're still _there_ ," points to the ground, "and everyone outside of this room, they're at my feet and they're just raving for a chance to not be stuck there at the bottom with you."

I shake my head then, sighing, "Don't expect to be up there for too long."

And even as I leave, I feel his eyes on the back of my head.

* * *

There is a dream I have, from time to time. And in the dream, I don't stop.

In the dream, I see them all. The murderers. The rapists. The psychos. The thieves. I see them all laughing. Everyone's laughing, everyone's crying. Dancing around each other, drowning in blood. There are people screaming in this gathering. People, innocent people. Men, women, children. They're all being dragged by the hairs and they're crying, they're crying as the monsters have their way with them as they see fit. And when I realize I have a knife in my hand, I decide I won't stop.

I do everything in my power to make sure that that dream _never_ becomes a reality. Because the moment it does, is the moment I really become a monster. It gets harder and harder each day. But I try. That photograph on my shelf makes me try my very best. If I fail this, I fail her, I fail them both. And they'll both just rot away and die forever.

As long as I remember them, I won't ever fall down into the dark. As long as I remember them, I'll be able to live with myself. If I ever forget them, they die for real. If I ever lose them, I lose everything.

There's a line I can never ever cross. If I kill another man, everything comes undone. All the lessons I've learned up to this point will have been for nothing, and Kana and her family would have suffered meaningless atrocities. I do not want to kill Kamoshida. But in entering his Palace...I've immediately risked that.

Yet there's someone who entered just before I did. One of my classmates. If she dies, that's another death on my head. And that can't happen. I refuse to let that happen. Nobody else dies, not while I'm here.

But I'm running out of patience. And judging by how the insect legs are _grinding_ against the walls of my skull, I'm also running out of time.

I'm in an alleyway. My eyes are on three people, and a cat. Three people who don't understand what they're doing. People I have to stop, before it's too late.

Sakamoto's holding a phone out, he's tapping away, explaining things to the girl with pigtails as Niijima looks on and provides supplementary facts. The girl with pigtails has a hard time taking all the information in, and now and then she looks like she wants to just up and leave because what the other two are saying just sounds so _ridiculous_ , but in the end she stays. She stays, because this is all she can do with the circumstances.

Before the dream becomes a reality, I have to go to them and stop them from doing something stupid.

I see the words form in their mouths, I see something red flash on the screen of Niijima's phone, and as Niijima says a few words I try to rush in and stop it from happening.

But all I can think of is the question _Why didn't I stop it sooner?_ as everything turns red and black and distorted.

* * *

"All right!" Sakamoto yells, "Time to bust on through."

"Wh-what...!?" Ann Takamaki is taken aback, because she's now right at the front gates of a literal castle. And all her new companions are donned in spectacularly gaudy outfits that wouldn't be too out of place in an anime. "Wh-what... _is_ this!?"

"It's...exactly what we told you," sighs Niijima, having expected this sort of reaction.

"Y-your clothes...! A-and what is _that_...!?" Takamaki exclaims, pointing at the bulb-headed cat-thing, "A monster cat!?"

"M-Monster...!?" the cat exclaims, actually kind of hurt by that statement. "I've been here all this time!"

"Honestly had doubts it'd work," says Sakamoto. "But, yeah. This is...pretty much it."

Takamaki recalls what they had just told her moments ago, jumbled things about cognitions, and buildings constructed from certain people's cognitions, how Kamoshida saw himself as the king of a castle, the castle being Shujin and—

—from the look on her face, it all begins to make sense.

"S-so then...everything you said, it was..."

"All true. No matter how ridiculous it may have sounded..."

"So this is...," she turns to look at the castle.

"This...is Kamoshida's Palace," says the monster-cat. "It is a physical manifestation of his distorted desires."

"A-and...so this is how he sees the school...?"

"He's the king. The school's his castle. Everyone in it's either a prisoner or a servant," replies Sakamoto. "Now. There's something in the castle we gotta get. It's called his Treasure."

"Treasure...?' mutters Takamaki.

"The Treasure is the source of his distorted desires. Everything he's done, it's because of that. It's something deeply rooted within himself, something so vital that if it's taken out, he'll never be the same again. He'll be so filled with guilt that he'll be forced to confess his crimes," states Niijima.

"A-and you know this how...?" asks Takamaki, giving her a wary glance. "Have you done this before?"

"No. But it's what the cat told us," says Sakamoto. "And, well...we're inclined to believe him."

Morgana huffs, "I'm not a cat!"

"No, but you are a monster."

Everyone turns. And they see me. I'm glaring at them, and as I glare Sakamoto and Niijima and _the cat_ all glare at me back, while Takamaki just says, "K-Kurusu...?"

"No," says Niijima. "Kanzaki."

Ann widens her eyes at the sound of that surname, then turns to me and looks as though she's realized a truth that's been standing right in front of her all this time.

"You're all monsters. Takes one to know one," I say to the costumed ones. "You look ridiculous in those outfits."

"You should be helping us," says Niijima. "You've had this power all this time. You saved Suzui then, so don't you dare tell me you _just don't care_. It's obvious you're at the very least concerned about—"

"The only thing I'm _concerned_ about is making sure nobody makes the same mistake I did," I reply, stepping forward with my hands in my pockets. "You're willing to risk it. You're really willing to risk it, even after everything."

"Yes. I am," Niijima responds.

"What is he talking about...?"

"Well...," Sakamoto replies to Takamaki, "stealing the Treasure may not be as easy as we make it out to be. In fact, it may result in Kamoshida...," he sighs then, deciding to be as blunt as possible. "Stealing the Treasure might make him shut down."

"Shut...down?"

"At worst, he might end up a vegetable," I responded. "Or just go mad and start causing chaos. Drooling at the mouth, shouting nonsense, roaming around nude with a knife in his hands. The works."

Takamaki's eyes widen at the sound of all that.

But Niijima tells her, "We won't force you, if you're not willing to go through with it. We're risking his life, here...and our own. Remember how we said there were either servants or prisoners within the castle?"

Takamaki nods.

"The servants...can kill you, if you're not careful. It's your choice. You can leave now, if you'd like. Or you could come with us. The fact of the matter is, Kamoshida won't be stopped unless we do something like this. We've no evidence to present to police, and everyone in school's willing to keep their mouths shut to keep themselves safe. We won't stop you from leaving."

Takamaki just says, "S-so...if you steal the Treasure...then...you'll take his _distorted desires_ away...?"

"Like we said," responded the monster-cat, "he'll feel so guilty that he'll turn himself in to the cops. And he won't ever hurt another soul again."

And I was disgusted by how interested Takamaki was at the thought of all that. "You could ruin him," I told her.

"How many lives has he ruined?" she asks, glaring at me. "You were there. You tried to save her. And for that...I'm grateful. But I...," she turns to Niijima and to Sakamoto. "I'm willing to give this a shot—"

We hear the sound of a metal footstep crashing to the ground.

All of us turn. There's a golden knight standing there. Right at the gates. His blank eyes fixated on Takamaki, most of all.

"Wh-what is...!?"

"Keep her back!" Niijima shouts. "Don't let the Shadows come near her!"

"Right!" Sakamoto declares. "Captain Kidd!"

"On it!" Morgana cries out. "Zorro!"

"Johanna!"

And the three of them summon their Personas, bright brilliant blue lights emanating from the creatures, the legends that've come from the resolve in their hearts. All Ann Takamaki can do is stare, in wonder and awe and horror. All at the same time.

But that's not the important bit. The important bit is when the golden knight makes all triumph they might have felt at this very moment completely null and void, with one simple jarring movement.

It shifts somewhat, jitters about its head for just a second. But once that motion is done, everything just turns so surreally wrong a part of me doesn't know whether to laugh or be horrified. It rises, transforms into something huge and monstrous, veiny and pulsating, throbbing. Gigantic and green, perched on a golden chariot. Tentacles swarming out the back, it has a mouth and two thin spindly little arms, it's taller than three small cars stacked atop one another and it's letting out this unmentionable noise.

It's writhing around, shaking and jittering and splaying its tentacles wildly for all to see. It is something unmentionable, something both hilarious and disgusting and yet at the same time completely horrifying because once I realize what that represents, what it's doing here, in Kamoshida's Palace, I think of just _everything_ Kamoshida must have done to Shiho Suzui, to a number of girls under his boot, and I keep the bile down my throat, I keep the anger simmering, I slowly go colder and colder because I feel like I've never known hatred like this before—

" _Are you serious!?_ " Sakamoto exclaims, recognizing it for what it is.

"Oh, come on...!" cries out the cat.

Takamaki's shoulders droop down, as Makoto just glares at it because she's come to the same conclusion I have.

And of course, at the top of its head, something white starts coming out. It's not what you'd think. It's something bright, flickering; a ball of light. As absurd as it is, it starts growing bigger, and makes a sound like a cannon being ready to fire, and soon everyone realizes that perhaps the absurd way the creature looks is perhaps a way to distract prey from the true threat.

Niijima is the first to exclaim, "We need to get out of here right now —!" because the only think she can think of is _Curse Curse Curse Curse_ —

But the white ball of light is thrown down onto them. Though it is the size of a baseball, the light is large enough to take all of them to pieces. Rocks start flying in the air as this horrible droning noise starts rising, a noise that's eldritch and is loud enough to make those with weak constitution defecate themselves from the sensation alone, it's loud and unsightly and everyone's just getting enveloped in this horrible white light that's burning them, burning their flesh and their bodies and searing through their costumes and hitting their nerves—

—Sakamoto's screaming as his leather starts getting fried and the cat's making out sounds like it's being skinned alive and Niijima's holding on to her shoulders as the light burns through her, Ann Takamaki's suffering as well, burning as her skin turns red and patches of flesh start just getting fried off—

—and I'm nowhere near them. Because I ran outside the moment the light started flashing.

* * *

Makoto Niijima's vision is dark, and blurry, and everything on her hurts right now. But she is alive, and that's all that matters.

It hurts to stand, it hurts to even try to stagger, but she has to. She has to see. She has to lead everyone out of here. It was stupid, stupid of her to even try this without having prepared for the worst. She led Takamaki here, she has to get her out of here at least, she didn't even have anything to do with this and yet—

—she sees Takamaki. Unconscious, but alive as well. Still breathing, faint as it may be. There was some sort of green light emanating off of her, something strangely alluring—and then Makoto sees it. She sees the gargantuan _thing_ looming over Takamaki, imparting the green light—the red on Takamaki's skin turning pale again, the exposed muscle and the burn marks and the flesh that'd been seared off all coming back. Slowly, painfully, each missing patch of skin starts coming back, as though Takamaki hadn't even been wounded—

—Sakamoto on the ground. Unconscious. Morgana unresponsive as well. Everyone hurting. Everyone left for dead. The creature grabs Takamaki in one of its massive tendrils and starts turning back to the entrance, the golden wheels making their creaking noises. The golden wheels and the green shape start to jitter again, and in a second it is a mere golden knight once more, and it is carrying Takamaki over its right shoulder.

It is just going to leave them there, to die. Leave them there, to bleed out from their wounds and the burns, their bodies sizzling and simmering.

And as Makoto begins to fade away again, as her mind starts to go blank and her body starts going cold, as everything goes numb and all her memories begin to pass her by, her sister her father her mother and all the friends she could have had but chose not to, she sees something walk past her. Something tall, something dark.

It is a shapeless, ambiguous sort of creature that sidles past her, doesn't even pay her heed as it walks by. She vaguely sees a glint in its eyes, like the shine of light reflecting of the lens of a pair of glasses.

And once Makoto Niijima drifts into unconsciousness, I lay my hand on her. Something in the back of my mind saying _Dia_.

It is not because I care for her. Nor is it because I respect her, or feel anything towards her. It's all me. It's all for me. Just like how saving Ann Takamaki will be just for me. Just like how trying to save Shiho Suzui was for me.

It is all so the dream never becomes a reality. So that I will never again be somewhere else, watching it happen.

* * *

I run as fast as my legs could carry me. My eyes burn against the wind. My heart races as I force my weak feet to continue charging ahead. I ignore the coldness of my breath and the intense numbness welling up in my fingers. My lungs grow and shrink at an unimaginable rate, and the speed at which I dash is something I believed I'd never be able to do on my own. My messy hair turns even more unkempt and shaggy as I run.

Nothing matters. Nothing matters except getting to Takamaki. I run a distance of what I assume to be ten meters before stopping and hiding behind a wall. Metal footsteps ring, and metal footsteps fade. Shadows running all over the place, on patrol. No doubt, due to our actions in the Palace beforehand. Have to keep moving. Have to keep running.

Or else she dies. She dies and everyone dies. Everyone dies, and in the end none of this will ever mean anything because she'll be watching me, she'll be watching me let everyone die. She'll be hanging over me like a ghost, never letting me let go. And I can't let that happen, I can't bear to let that be.

I know where the golden knight's leading me. A voice in my head, telling me every which way to go. Every object I can hide behind whenever a Shadow's lurking near. I know it has something to do with golden eyes, but I don't care about it, it doesn't matter at all, I don't want it to matter _all I want is for nobody to die_ —

—I don't want anyone to die I don't want Kana to die I won't let her, won't let anyone, or else I'll burn I'll burn forever and I won't ever make it back from what I've become.

Moments pass into what feel like hours. And hours pass into what feel like days. But in the end, my sneaking around ultimately does me good. I lean against a certain door, one that's larger than even I and is adorned with all sorts of egregious golden decorative patterns all over the sides. The voice in my head is telling me that _behind this door_ is exactly who I'm looking for. Along with someone else of great import.

 _ **"Oh, it's you again? Thought you'd have been dead, by now..."**_

I see _him_. Him and his golden eyes, his red cape, his pink speedo. He's grinning at me, smiling like a cat. Next to him is someone who looks like Takamaki, but is dressed in a mere bikini—wearing a headband with cat ears protruding out from the sides and giving me that sort of confused look a mentally retarded person would.

In this room, I'm surrounded by a bunch of pink, three-dimensional silhouettes. All of them are silhouettes of women; most of them younger than I, some of them my age. Never older. They are wearing the track uniform for girls, all of them. They're all stretching in unsightly poses, poses most adults wouldn't even dare to pull off out of sheer decency. I walk towards Kamoshida, the guards watching me as I walk. The only reason I'm not dead yet is because Kamoshida knows I can't do anything to him.

All around the room are pictures. Pictures of women who are too young for their own good, all of them and their expressions of fear and ecstasy and anger and self-pity. The ones in the pictures who aren't naked might as well be, and they're stuck in positions so shameful even the most depraved would be aghast. The pictures are hanging in disarray, all over the walls, kept in place by thumbtacks of all things. There are whips strewn about on the ground, hot irons and other sorts of tools. Things I don't know how to describe, and can't even imagine going _inside_ people.

There's a painting of Kamoshida that's as tall as three people, and as wide as four. It's of him looking triumphant, boastful; his arms are folded and his cape is billowing in the wind.

I see the real Takamaki; she's awake, thankfully, but she's been bound. Her arms and ankles are locked against an X-like post, like she's been crucified, and she's trying with all her might to break free but she can't. She's watching me as I walk and even now she's trying to break her bonds, but she only stops the moment I walk right up to Kamoshida and I tell him:

"Please. Stop this. Before it's too late."

At this, he laughs that haughty laugh of his, actually heaving back and deciding to overact just to rub it in my sorry little face. Takamaki looks at me like I've done something stupid, because I have; it's so stupid that Kamoshida just has to keep laughing even two minutes in.

I know how stupid it is, and I don't care, it doesn't matter. This is all I have. All I am. This is my genius, master plan. Look at me now, Kana. I hope I'm becoming worthy of you again.

 _ **"Are you pulling my leg!?"**_ Kamoshida laughs. _**"You came all this way to just ask me that!? You can't seriously think that would have worked! For someone who had such good grades in his previous school...I'm amazed you're smart enough to breathe. Do you even know who I am?"**_

And that.

That shameless flaunting of his ego. That sent all the goodwill tumbling down.

"No. I don't. Should I be impressed?"

And _then_ , he flies into a rage. _**"I'M NOT TRYING TO IMPRESS ANYBODY!"**_ And then all his knights raise their blades, raised them to my throat. I don't even move an inch. I can't afford to.

"K-Kurusu...!"

Turn to Takamaki, glare at her. Silently told her to _shut up_ , she's not gonna be able to help anyway.

At this, Kamoshida continues. _**"I don't need to. People are toys, they're paste, and that means you and Takamaki and Suzui and Kobayakawa and everyone else can just go off and die, for all I care! I don't need your garbage, I can take what's mine, I don't NEED to share, because everything on this planet is my BIRTHRIGHT! I've done more in a year than ANY OF YOU will ever do in your lives!"**_

"So that's it?" I grunt out. "You're just another sociopath, is all."

 _ **"And what does that make you!?"**_ he proclaims, snickering smugly, jabbing his index finger into the space between my eyes. _**"You're a killer! I've read the reports! Seen all the news articles! You jabbed your knife into a man's neck, and he wasn't just any man, he was the guy who'd've become Prime Minister! You had him bleed out like a dog in the street, split his head open like a lemon! All 'cause of some girl! And you call me the sociopath!? You call ME crazy!?"**_

"Yes," I say. "Because it's not crazy to want to kill everyone responsible for making the world as bad as it is."

 _ **"Right, keep telling yourself that. If you really wanted to kill me, you'd have done it by now. In fact!"**_ He raises his hand up, sending all the guards back. Then he really leans in, _**"You can do it now, if you'd like! My neck's right here! Stab me now, right in the jugular! I know you have that knife you used on Shido with you right now! Just do it! End it! Make me bleed out a fountain! Lemme die like a dog at your feet and then call yourself a hero, saving the damsel in distress! Try it! Try it!"**_

I don't do a thing to him.

 _ **"JUST! As I thought!"**_ he smugly declares. _**"You can't kill me. You're scared. You're being held back by something. You're afraid, afraid of going down that road. You're a coward. You're nothing. You're lashing out against me, 'cause you can't lash out against yourself. Is it just too hard to cross that line again?"**_

I mutter simply, "I know."

And after a long silence, he says, _**"What...?"**_

"I know. Of course, I know. You're not saying something I've not already told myself. I am a coward. I am scared. I am more scared of it than anything else. But in the end, you're wrong in saying it'd be hard for me to cross that line. It'd be too easy. All I want to do, more than anything right now, is kill you. Watch you twitch and writhe at my feet, begging me to heal you, stitch up your wounds. I want to subject you to the same pain and fear as your victims, and then end you. That's the easiest thing for me to do right now. I've done it before. And I can do it again. But I don't want to. I cannot allow myself to."

He blinks, scoffing, _**"What, now you're trying to be the hero?"**_

"I'm no hero. I've never been one. I'm misshapen, I'm scared. I'm angry, I'm sad. I'm nothing, like you said. I'm not going to deny this. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not. I'm not trying to be a hero, I'm not trying to be better. I'm trying to fulfill a promise."

 ** _"What is this? Stop being so dramatic, this isn't television."_**

"I know I'm no better than you. We're both gutter trash, the lowest of the low. Neither of us deserve to live. But nobody deserves anything. And I know this is stupid, I know I'm doing something unbelievably mad; coming here, face-to-face with you, trying to convince you out of the _goodness_ of your heart that what you're doing is wrong. But it's all I have. And all I am. Because, as screwed up as it sounds, I'd rather convince you to change yourself than take the pain and agony you deserve. Because otherwise, I'll be doing something to you far worse than anything you could ever do to anyone else."

And Kamoshida's Shadow doesn't say a word again, for minutes that feel like hours. He glares at me. A very stony glare, like he's trying to kill me with his eyes alone.

It's not long before he kicks me in the stomach so hard I have to crumple down, and I clutch my guts as I vomit out my breakfast.

 _ **"I don't need your pity."**_

From my bag, I procure the silver knife that began all this madness, inside of me. In my hands, the blade flicks open, and I raise it at the monsters before us. I'm standing on my own two feet as Takamaki watches me, looks at me like I'm doing something that'll get us killed. The soldiers before us watch as well, but move closer once they realize I can't do much to them anyway. Kamoshida's Shadow laughs as the fake Takamaki wraps herself in his arm, the real Takamaki trying even harder now to wrench herself out of her bindings —

The Shadow knights of Kamoshida's Palace shift themselves backwards as I take two steps forward and as I walk I feel _alive_ again. Yellow eyes now. I see yellow eyes looking down on me. A world of ashen grass, destroyed and decayed. Red sky. Everything falling apart. I see the ground at my feet cracking into two. I see what's left of the trees collapsing into themselves, the mountains crumbling into landslides and avalanches. The smell grows rancid, the smell of corpses, and I see the yellow-eyed woman, the entity I sold my soul to, smile one more time.

"My...you've become an Anomaly."

She's laughing at me now, laughing that adorable laugh of hers whenever I'd do something funny. But then her throat grows thick and her voice gets deep and all of a sudden she sounds so unlike herself I'm revolted and afraid and amazed and in love all over again.

I stand. And when I stand, I feel something ceramic on my face, over my eyes. I'm wearing a black trenchcoat that stretches down to my shins. Pointed shoes and loose jeans. Red gloves, a vest underneath the coat. I've become something else. Someone else. A fragment of myself, everything I could be. Everything I should be. The insect legs stop crawling in my head. Kana and the monster wearing her face have both vanished from my sight.

 ** _"You are something strange."_**

My mind shatters then.

Before I know it, I'm on the ground. There's something trembling in my brain, something inescapable, unstoppable, impossible. My nails are digging into my brain and my brain is digging into itself, churning and splitting and writhing like it's alive. I feel liquids escape my eyes and my nose and my ears as I feel the pain of a thousand nails being rammed into the various sections of my skull, the hammer coming down again and again and again.

I see her. I see so many _hers_. Green and yellow eyes shifting all over, blinking and glowing and glittering. Red scarves, red fluttering in the wind. Red like blood. I miss her. I want her. I want her in my arms, in my hands again. I want to hold her close and never let her go. I never want to let her go because letting go is the same as forgetting. And I can't forget her. Not her, not Masako. They're too important.

 _ **"Your very soul is splintered, fractured, fragmented. You're torn between your vows and your hatred of those who send the world in a mire."**_

But there's a thousand things wrong with the world. More than a thousand. A million. Every day, I see wolves. Every day, I see curses. No more. There's scum on the planet, viruses that contaminate and blight the world. Taking the lives of the innocent, remorselessly and fearlessly, simply because they can. Simply because nobody can stop them. Nobody wants to try.

 _ **"You are a magnet of death. Every step you take is another step into madness. Everyone you know, you drag along with you down into the fiery pits of Hell. You are a light in the dark. A flickering flame, spluttering and raging. But the brighter a fire burns, the thicker the shadows loom."**_

Black grips my hands, but it's not the black hand of the Devil, not the black hand of the darkness. It is something primal, something that came from me and no one else. It's vile and screams of red, it's shambling like it's mad and it's thrashing about, there's red spraying everywhere like they came from throats that had burst open. It's laughing, it's hair is wild and frayed and everywhere. Swathes of black with sharp lines of white around the left side.

It is wearing the outfit of a Victorian citizen, puffy sleeves and collar and everything. It is wearing a sleeveless blazer, its legs spindly and its shoes pointed. Its arms are each as long as a small car, its body is as tall as two large ones. I reach up to his waist in height; down from his back is a black cape that's split down the middle. The cape is frayed as well, to the point where its frays now look like a crow's wings.

Its eyes are red, and I know this because the skin around its eyes is deep and dark enough to make that much evident. There's meat in his teeth, his nose is crooked and pointed. His clawed hands are large enough to crush my head like a melon.

 _ **"If you decide to continue on this damaged path, you will lure many to their doom. They will follow you. They will look upon you and see you as a beacon. And in their hope, you will condemn them to the flames. Is that what you wish for? Will you give yourself, your very soul, to this?"**_

I am here. I am nowhere else but here. I grab the domino mask on my face, the pain on my eyelids like a knife that I want to keep stabbing into myself 'til the day I die.

 _ **"Very well. Sorry fool that you are. Let us forge a contract."**_

There is a dream I have, from time to time. And in the dream, I don't stop.

In the dream, I see them all. The murderers. The rapists. The psychos. The thieves.

Each and every one of them, poisoning the world, killing it faster each day. I see them all laughing, drowning in their hedonism and malaria. The streets are full of gutters. And the gutters, full of blood. Everyone's laughing, everyone's crying. They're all in this orgiastic mass, naked. Dancing around each other, drowning in blood. They're against each other, against the walls, screaming out blasphemies and lies. There are people screaming in this gathering. People, innocent people. Men, women, children. They're all being dragged by the hairs and they're crying, they're crying as the monsters have their way with them as they see fit. I hear screams I never thought I'd ever hear from any human being.

And when I realize I have a knife in my hand, I decide I won't stop. Fountains spill from their bodies. Red, spraying out like a pipe had burst open. The revelry stops. And they see. And they run. But I catch them. I catch them all. I grind their bones into the palms of my hands. Blood everywhere. Guts everywhere. Organs. The knife reaches everyone. Nothing matters. Nothing matters at all. My hand never stops holding the knife, and the knife just keeps getting redder and redder.

All over the walls, all over the world. The monsters, once enjoying themselves in their depravity, now screaming and running and pleading for the God they had once blasphemed against to save them. And when it's all over, I see the innocents looking at me. At the monster, drenched in monsters' gore. They see me, and they are abhorred at the horns that've grown on my head, at the claws that've sprouted from my nails, at the meat dripping down my teeth. When I see them, I speak.

 _If they can't live,_ I exclaim, _neither can you_.

Then as I'm surrounded by the millions of bodies, I see him.

He is dressed in black, that oversized Wolf's helm still blazing with its red eyes. I'll rush him, even as he'll shoot his guns, even as the bullets go into every single part of my body. My blade cuts into him slowly, deep, carving through bone. Human bodies are so much more fragile than you'd expect.

Because that's what he is. He's human. He's just like me. He can be killed. Just like his father, I'll kill him quickly. He made things personal. But all that's gonna grant him is a little more pain than most.

It's just a dream, I'd often tell myself then, when I'd inevitably wake up. But now, I'm beginning to fall asleep. Yet the same time, I also feel like I'm waking up. Kamoshida watches, and immediately regrets having not taken my offer. None of them can step in. He and his soldiers are horrified by the sight, unable to bear being within its proximity.

And I come alive.

 _ **"I hail from the Sea of thy Soul. I am thou, and thou art I.**_  
 _ **I am Mephistopheles, Plasterer of Lies."**_

* * *

 _ **author's notes:**_

* * *

Those reading this fic who are familiar with comics may recognize that I've based Akira off of Garth Ennis'/Jason Aaron's rendition of the Punisher, along with a bit of Garth Ennis' character Billy Butcher from his comic _The Boys_. Moreso on the Punisher; honestly was a little worried trying to make the dorky, relatable Akira Kurusu into the grungy, angsty Akira Kanzaki. But I'm glad people like him, or at the very least feel sorry for him.

If you guys are wondering how Akira can have a Persona in his head while having _Nyarlathotep_ in there as well...there's a question I had once which struck me somewhat:

What happens if a Persona-user has split personality disorder?

I felt Mephistopheles was a good fit for this rendition of Akira; he was the original Persona meant for the P5 MC before they decided to change it, because it didn't fit with the game's themes. But in this story? He definitely fits, especially considering what I've got planned for Akira soon.

Also, gonna make some reedits to earlier chapters, gonna fix some certain things that I feel need fixing for future chapters. Mostly involving Akira's father.

 **EDIT: Expanded Ann's scenes, because she deserves some more screen time. Also added in a scene with Akira and Kamoshida.**


	21. Chapter I, IX

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

When Kamoshida flees, he takes the fake Takamaki with him. He doesn't matter, all that matters is making sure all this madness ends as quickly as possible.

The knife I have in my hands shouldn't be enough to slash at armor the way it does. But I'm carving through the knights like they're butter. The world turns various shades of black and for the first time in a long time I feel like my life has actual substantial meaning again. Mephistopheles uses flames, and when he doesn't use flames he uses dark hands from the bottom of the universe, clawing at the knights and dragging them into eternal damnation.

Normally, I'd be afraid. Perhaps killing these lesser Shadows will affect the real Kamoshida in some way. Perhaps me summoning yet another creature from the bowels of my mind indicates I'm even more damaged than I originally thought. Perhaps Masako's in Heaven just weeping at me, at the fact that I'm already turning back on my promise to her mother.

Perhaps Masako's just dead and buried in the ground and there is no Heaven or Hell and this is all there is.

Nevertheless, I'm fighting like I've done all this nonsense before. I'm dodge-rolling, I'm weaving in and out, and I'm stabbing the knights like they're Shido's neck over and over again. It's all maddening, it's all incredible. For a moment I sympathize with Niijima and Sakamoto; if they felt this alive when summoning their Personas, no wonder they want to go back into this place.

Everything seems so small now, like I can hold the whole planet in my hands and crush it in my palm. Like all the scum on the planet is just something I can wipe out into nothingness. It's all so easy, so quick, so utterly insignificant. Nothing can topple me, nothing can stop me. The feeling's almost sinful, in a way.

The fighting is all just a blur, but it's the kind of blur that stays with you. You want every single little detail out of it, and when you obtain nothing you're left in a state that makes _hollow_ look desirable.

By the time this all began, there were ten knights in the room. By the time it all ends, three of them have vanished into nothingness while the rest lay about bleeding out black and twitching like they've lost motor functions. The silhouetted high school girls are still stretching, doing their poses even with all the black gunk over their clothes.

I look up, I see the creature that calls itself my _Persona_. It's unnaturally natural, the sight of him; a part of me feels as though I should be revolted, even horrified. But in the end, he is no more a part of me than my right arm is. My heart's pounding, thudding against my ribcage and making the blood run faster. I nod at him, and he nods back. Though neither of us say a thing to each other, I feel like he and I have known of each other for so long that words feel unnecessary.

"K-Kurusu...!"

I turn and for a brief flicker I see Kana, horrified and looking at me like I've just killed another man. But then she disappears and I see Ann Takamaki, still kept within steel confines, unable to move a muscle. The way she called out my name, I'm not sure if she's amazed or horrified or both. But she can't stay here.

* * *

 **\- SECTION IX -  
What would you do?  
**

* * *

"Did he do anything to you?" I grunt, marching over to her.

"N-no," she stammers out, "he, he planned to...said that his guards were stupid to _mistake_ me for that doll he has latched to his arm...! He told them to start tearing off my clothes, and I...!"

And she's enraged, she's infuriated, she must be feeling a thousand different things right now and I can't blame her. But there's no time to waste. Top priority is making sure the alive _stay_ alive. I turn to her, my hands at the locks keeping her in place. Though my fingers try to rip the steel binds locking her, the steel is ultimately too strong. I can't have Mephistopheles burn the locks, or she may end up with stumps for hands and feet.

"Come out...," I whisper to the other monster inside my head, the one who wears the skin of Kana. "Come on, _come on_ , I need your help!"

"Kurusu, what—!?"

"Why won't you come on out when I need you!?" I cry out, clutching at my hairs and pulling at them, trying to trigger a reaction out of the beast. "Come on! Get out! Gimme your power, you tell me I can use you anytime but you never come out when you're needed most, not with Suzui not with Takamaki _not even with Kana WHERE ARE YOU_ —!?"

"K-Kurusu, hold on! C-calm down, what are you trying to—!?"

"Doesn't matter to you, does it!? Only matters when you say it does...!" I whip out the knife, and I turn to Mephistopheles. He and his membranous hairdo nod again in approval as I turn back to Takamaki, "Sorry if I end up cutting you...!"

"W-wait! You're gonna—!?"

"You wanna stay _here_ any longer!?"

And she shuts up.

I wonder how my eyes must look now. Did Kana see the same sight, when I stabbed Shido in the neck? Was that why she looked at me the way she did? The thought makes my nerves tingle, but I make myself focus when I realize my hands begin shaking again from all the memories of what I did. Bad time, body. Kana's not here, Kana's in the hospital, right now there's someone else who needs me and I will _not_ let Kamoshida get his grubby hands all over her.

Of course, the shackles don't come undone. I may be using a swiss army knife, but it's useless in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to pick locks. I figured perhaps my stubbornness was gonna push through one more time, but of course that was impossibly wishful thinking.

"Please, come on, why aren't you even coming out...!?" I exclaim frantically, the knife still at the keyhole, my hands shaking from the fear of just everything happening, "Your eyes are on me 24/7 but now that I'm actually doing something you've wanted me to do for ages you—" I throw the knife away, let it clatter along the ground, "— _now you stop!?_ "

I whip myself around and I see her. Her and her big green eyes and big red scarf and everything she is, was, and will ever be. Mephistopheles fades away, fades into blue shards of glass, and my clothes return to normal in an instant wash of black fire over my body. I walk to her, glaring at her.

"What is this?" I grunt. "What's happening to me, to my mind, what—"

"You've become an Anomaly," she says to me, smiling again. "Something everyone on all sides has tried to avoid..."

"What are you talking about!?" I cry out, not hearing Takamaki calling out my name.

"Your psyche is fragmented. Convoluted. Memories and moments fleeting in and out. You have two minds in one body, and they are both in flux. One is rational, if more than a little standoffish. The other is the one that killed Masayoshi Shido. You are now currently in an in-between sort of state; even I'm not so sure how long you and I will be able to keep up conversation."

"So, what? _Fragmented..._ like, I have split-personality disorder, something like that? Huh?" I say, though the term _split-personality disorder_ makes my stomach churn like I've just committed seppuku.

"Honestly, I don't quite know where to quantify you. I've never tried imbuing a human with a mind as fractured as yours with my power. But there's a first time for everything."

"Get me out of here," I snarl at her. "Me and her. You can do that, can't you? Make me stronger, you did that with _Kana,_ why can't you do that now?"

"Because I don't want to."

" _Kurusu_!"

I whip around, before I can tell Kana how much I want to rip her body to shreds. I see Takamaki, who flinches and rears her head back the moment her eyes meet mine. She's looking at me like she's in Hell, and I'm the Devil. I hate how she looks at me, so I turn back and I see that Kana Kohaku is gone once again. Gone with the wind.

And in her place, standing right in front of me, is a golden knight.

I look at it tiredly, and for a moment I want to cry as I weakly mutter out, "Come _on_..."

It just backhands me with its massive shield, not even bothering to transform into its true and terrible self. I'm flung to the ground and the world just spirals as my head crashes down. Everything's spinning, and I feel a thousand things snap as an unrivalled sort of pain blasts out from the nape of my neck for the briefest of moments. I think I've twisted several bones in my neck. I, by all means, should not be alive right now. But I am, and everything on me hurts.

I try to get up, I need to get up. I see it, I've lifted my head enough to see it march towards Takamaki, who's freaking out now. Calling out my name, calling out for help, she's thrashing about at the locks on her wrists as the golden knight's moving closer.

 _ **"Down there, in the dirt...you don't look so tall, now."**_

I see _him_ again. I see him with his bright red cloak and his garish smile, the fake Takamaki slinking over his arm with that dull look still in her eyes. He's surrounded by them now. Surrounded by golden monstrosities wearing steel shells that help make them look like men.

I try to grab the knife. It's right next to me. I have to kill him, him and everyone else that isn't human in this room. No time for moral grandstanding now, but then I realize—

—I can't feel anything below my neck.

 _ **"Aw, what? Paralysis...funny how fragile the human body can be. I see kids every day, kids I'm training to become better athletes. They keep whinging and whining about how much of a jerk I am, how hard I push them. They're all too snot-nosed and pampered to see that I'm trying to make them more than what they are."**_

"K-Kamoshida...!" cries out Takamaki. "Let him go! H-he has nothing to do with this...!"

 _ **"Sure he does! He's a killer, don't you know? Can't have him lumped together with me, I don't care what Kobayakawa says,"**_ he laughs, then turning to the other knights in the room. _**"You mistook her for my queen? Give me a break."**_

The fake Takamaki is just drooling over his arm now, and he shrugs her off as he tells the knight that had knocked me down, _**"Pick him up, gut him. Or behead him, whatever you like. Just make sure it happens now."**_

At that moment I think I begin to know what fear is. "W-wait," the knight walks closer to me. "Wait, s-stop...!" Kamoshida grins again as Takamaki's struggling harder, tears in her eyes now as she and I both realize what is about to happen. "Wait, wait you can't do this...!"

 _ **"What, you're begging for your life now? Please. You knew the price to pay in coming here, trying to do something as stupid as you did. You can't just ask for forgiveness, not after your treasonous actions. Attacking the king. Invading his castle. Killing his men, trying to abduct his prisoners. You deserve to die a thousand times over."**_

" _Why are you doing this_!?" I cry out, the knight lifting me up by the collar of my uniform. "What's the point to all this—!?" Knight slams me against the wall, and I nearly cough out a lung. "Y-you—!" cough, hack, blood, spit, tastes like bile, "—you gain nothing—from _anything_ you're doing!"

 ** _"I get you dead. That's fine with me."_**

 _"I'm not talking about that!"_ I snarl at him, the blade pointing directly over my navel, "Suzui! I'm talking about her, her and everyone else you hurt! Why!? What's the point to hurting them!?"

 _ **"I'm not hurting them,"**_ he says simply.

"Stop denying it, you—!"

 _ **"If they're hurt, it's all up to them. Not like I gave them anything to be hurt over. Sure, with Suzui, I may have gone a little too far. But in the end, she'll live. I haven't hurt her, I'm not like those other people. There's entire communities full of 'em, they talk day in and day out about the screams they hear and the way eight-year olds cry. I'm not sadistic."**_

"Y-you...!"

He turns to Takamaki, having heard her outburst. He grins at her as she says, "You... _monster...!"_

 _ **"Neither of you know what a true monster is,"**_ he grunts, actually seeming angry now. _**"You know, I hate kids the most. Always ragging on about what should and shouldn't be done to society, like they're old enough to talk about it. You're so quick to judge, so quick to look at people's dark sides and say how horrible they are, like you're any better. Before both of you die, there's something you should know. A little life lesson, to really help underline the tragedy of all this: there's no such thing as good people, or bad people. What you think is a monster, I think is a perfectly normal human being."**_

"How can you _say that_ , after everything you've done...!?" cries out Takamaki. "You hurt Shiho, you hurt so many other people, you try to get me to sleep with you, how can you live with yourself, still call yourself a human being!?"

 _ **"Because I am human. It's not crazy to want to give in to your baser instincts. It's only natural. I've done so many things for society. They keep piling in on everything, asking me to fulfill things for them. Requirements, expectations. It's all a joke. I'm just having some fun with it."**_

"So you're doing this because you think you deserve it!?" she shouts. "Y-you think you just... _deserve_ to be able to hurt others!?"

 _ **"What I deserve is what anybody else does: the freedom to pursue their happiness, in any way I see fit,"**_ he smiles widely now.

"Shiho almost _died_ because of you!" Takamaki yells in anger now, the chains actually beginning to strain a little.

 _ **"Almost, but didn't. I didn't hurt her. I'm gentle. She took it way too personally, if you ask me,"**_ he laughs. _**"And what were you guys planning on doing, hmm? What were** **—"**_ he turns to me, _**"—** **you planning on doing!? You came in here, ready to hurt me. Ready to make me suffer, even with everything. You said it yourself, it's not crazy to want to kill everyone responsible for the state of the world. Why are you calling me crazy for doing something everyone else is trying to do!?"**_

"Because you're hurting people...," I snarl at him.

 _ **"And you haven't!? You're a killer! You knifed someone in the neck, all in self-defense! You had him killed! A to-be prime minister of Japan!"**_

"It wasn't to defend—" I mutter, the blood pooling at my neck as the blade scrapes over my belly, "—myself..."

 _ **"Oh, right. It was to defend a girl. Right? Some girl the press didn't even bother to mention all that much. What was her name, huh? Kasumi? Kojiro? I know it, it's on the tip of my tongue..."**_

"Kohaku," I glare at him. "Kana...Kohaku."

 _ **"Struck a nerve there, didn't I?"**_ he laughs. _**"But of course. Miss Kohaku couldn't save herself, so you just had to step in."**_

I want to kill him now, more than ever before. "He...would have...!"

 _ **"He'd have raped her, of course. I know that. Or so you've said. But sadly, that doesn't wipe off the blood on your hands. Like I said, you're just as much a monster as I am."**_

Never said I wasn't. Never once. But the thought of him lecturing me on my own hypocrisy made me want to sink the blade in him even more.

He then turns again, back to Takamaki. _**"And as for you. If you weren't so selfish as to reject me, Suzui wouldn't have felt the need to jump off the roof."**_

"How dare you," Takamaki says listlessly. "How dare you...!? You did that to her! You—it wasn't me, it was—!"

 _ **"You could have just said yes. But in the end, you never did. You shirk away from guys like they're all trying to grab you, trying to pin you down. What, do you just swing the other way? Pfft, it'd make sense, then..."**_

"Shut up...!" Takamaki roars, "Shut your mouth...! You can't act like you did nothing wrong!"

 _ **"But I didn't do anything wrong!"**_ he declares, his voice cracking in the way a voice cracks when the speaker's trying to convince himself of something. _**"Why can't any of you see that!? I deserve it all, don't I!? I'm the king of this castle! I should be the king of the world! None of you know what I've had to do to get to my position! How I've had to endure, to suffer, to sacrifice; everyone kept on piling their expectations on me, and I fulfilled them! I keep on fulfilling them! I have to, or else everyone gets on my case. 'Oh, you can win the Olympics but you can't sign a paper!?' or, 'You can run fifty miles without breaking a sweat but you can't go easy on your students!?' I'm sick of it! Sick of all of it! Who are you both to call me evil!?"**_

"You don't get to say that you didn't do anything wrong!"

When Takamaki screams, something blue and bright bursts into the world. Everyone's taken aback; I'm just disgusted with myself.

I wasn't able to stop her. And at this rate, I won't be able to save her.

She's writhing now, her wrists shaking against the chains keeping her to her posts. Everyone hears it creak, but nobody can do anything. Nobody can do anything because they're transfixed, something about this sight keeping them from even uttering a word.

The sight alone sends me somewhere else, and I'm just watching it happen again.

"I've had it! I've had enough of you!"

* * *

 _ **"My...it's taken far too long."**_

Ann Takamaki is a coward. She knows it, deep in herself.

She's long stopped caring about the insults the girls sling at her behind her back, and has heard enough rumors to last a lifetime. But she hasn't said a thing, hasn't told anyone, hasn't wanted to. She doesn't need to, she'd reason. She doesn't need anybody's pity.

She'd say she'd be okay, as long as she had Shiho by her side. That nobody else would matter, not the girls who take digs at her appearance, not the boys who try to woo her with fake smiles, not Kamoshida and all the horror he's got inside of him.

But in the end, like always, she's alone.

She didn't want to confront Kamoshida. She knew she couldn't, not directly; and yet she wanted to, more than anything else in the world. She was willing to take whatever chance would present itself to her, all because she was just _that_ desperate to make a difference. But a difference for what, exactly?

This question kept her awake, most nights. Was she afraid because of what Kamoshida would do to her? Or was she afraid for Shiho, and what _she_ would have suffered under him? She didn't even know anymore. Was she even fighting him now for Shiho? Or just to salvage what wounded scraps of herself she has left?

But she's not questioning anything anymore. She knows exactly what she's meant to do. Why she accepted the offer from Niijima, from Sakamoto. And why all this madness just has to stop, here and now.

 _ **"Tell me...who is going to avenge her, if you don't?"**_

She remembers holding Shiho in her arms, that day she jumped from the school building. She remembers everyone over her shoulder, watching the scene unfold. Some taking pictures, others just talking amongst themselves. None of them lifting a finger, none of them wanting or _caring_ enough to intervene. Because why should they? What would the point be?

Shiho, to them, was just some other girl.

Shiho apologized to her. She _apologized_ to Ann, as she faded into unconsciousness. Shiho shouldn't have. If anything, Ann should have been the one. If she hadn't...if she had only. No. No, she's not the one who has anything to be sorry for, either.

It's the creature standing right in front of her.

 _ **"Forgiving him was never the option.**_ _ **Such is the scream of the other you that dwells within."**_

At once, she begins to understand. The fire burns through her body and makes her everything tremble and trill with pain and pleasure, excitement and agony. It burrows into her brain and eats at her eyes, but it feels too good to want it to stop. She can feel her wrists purple as she pulls at the locks around her hands, and something red forms over the surface of her eyes.

 _ **"We can finally forge a contract.**_ **Nothing can be solved by restraining yourself.** **Understand?"**

She remembers laughing. She's a child now, one too young to know about sex or coercion or molesters or anything that vile. She's with Shiho, not with anyone else, because everyone else looks at her like she's some strange entity from another planet. But Shiho doesn't, Shiho outright tells her her drawing's terrible, or that she doesn't look good in blue, or that she's gonna be her friend forever and ever.

Shiho's in a hospital bed now, and Ann's holding her hand. Hoping for her to wake up. She stays in the room, and the minutes feel like days, and though she stays with Shiho's parents and though Shiho's parents consider the girl as family, Ann has to leave. She has to, Shiho's parents tell her to, they tell her she can visit tomorrow, that she has to go home, that she must rest herself up, that she doesn't have to do any of this.

Ann remembers kissing Shiho's forehead before leaving. And she doesn't know if she did it out of a particularly friendly sort of affection, or if it was something more. But it's all she needs.

"I hear you...Carmen."

 **"Then I'll gladly lend you my strength."**

She glares with a red mask on her face, glares at Kamoshida, who rears back. Somehow, and I don't know how, she pulls her wrists from her shackles and the steel crashes to the ground and she is free.

The blue fire emanates from her as a woman twice her size barrels out of her head. The woman is wearing a large red dress, frilled like a rose would be. There are green thorns surrounding her, and entangled in the thorns there are two dimunitive she has heels the size of a bicycle tire. She has black pigtails for hair, pigtails that blast out from behind her head and flow like cyclones.

She is a femme fatale, and as Ann Takamaki rips the mask off her face with a scream, the fire in her topaz eyes gets seared into Kamoshida forever.

 ** _"I am thou, thou art I._ _From the Sea of thy Soul, I cometh. I am Carmen, She Who Shalt Always Be Free."_**

Kamoshida cries out for his soldiers, _**"Don't just stand there, kill her!"**_

But they're not quick enough, they can't be quick enough. Fire spews from the ground like they've come from small volcanoes, and soon enough the knights whose armor sets haven't blackened have melted away, and Kamoshida himself is forced to rear himself back.

He sees his cape catch fire and he immediately wriggles it off of him, gesticulating madly in his fear and making frightened noises. He wants to keep screaming, he wants to kill her, to eat her, tear her to pieces and make her die. As quickly as possible. This can't be happening, none of this can be real.

 _ **"Stop this! S-stop it right now!"**_

Takamaki just glares at him as the fire burns through everyone he's brought to her, to us. The knights begin to weep and wail and melt away like butter to the sun, and Kamoshida keeps pleading, as he backs himself away.

 _ **"I-I'm the King! This isn't right! You're not supposed to do any of this!"**_

And when something snaps at the back of my neck, something returns my body to me. And before he can even turn his back, he realizes I'm on my feet again. When he turns, he sees me, and when he sees me he sees someone who doesn't look like a person anymore. He turns back, turns to Takamaki, and finds out she has the same expression.

So all he can do is scream his defiant and loathsome scream and whips himself around to face me.

Except it isn't me he's facing. The last thing that happens before I disappear completely is I feel my teeth sink into something.

* * *

All of a sudden, I see him as a child. He's running around, in some playground. Children his age, all around him. Screaming his name, but only his surname. He's up on the monkey bars, climbing the jungle gym. Getting his shoes caked in sand, throwing mud at other kids. Laughing with them like he's one of them. It's something precious, something pure. When they call his name out, he feels like he's on top of the world. Like it's the greatest moment of his life, when he makes it to the very top of the jungle gym and stands over everyone and everyone acts like he's some sort of king.

When grade school happens the trend continues. Little girls and their little crushes; when they give him their notes he's mostly elated that he's even received notes at all. He turns them down, all of them, but he doesn't try hurting their feelings when doing it. But they cry anyway, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't know how to make them stop crying. He's doing well enough. Well enough that his parents praise him, urge him to keep at his sports activities. They tell him he can become someone. That he can become something amazing. He could live like a king, with the money he'd make.

When he gets to high school, things get slightly more complicated as Kamoshida finds out nobody interests him. Nobody except those slimmer, more innocent, younger. But he shelves that side of him, figures it's not gonna be too bad. Everyone talks, but nobody says anything that matters. So he shambles, he walks, he talks here and there, but the real him is out there on the track field. Or playing volleyball, or basketball, or football. It's when he runs.

When the wind's blowing through his hair and nothing seems to matter in the world. When the crowd's singing and the opponent's struggling to even catch their breath. Ball bounces and everything goes silent. Foot plants itself in the ground and the planet just disappears, it's just him and this moment. He's out there, he's going to win. Every time he tells himself this, it comes true.

It happens for the first game, then the second, then the third. Before he's even aware of it, he's playing nationals. Everyone's cheering on him then. His parents watch his every game, even when they get too old to even remember his birthday. His friends come around from time to time, congratulate him on his wins. He makes some new friends in his teammates, some even on opposing teams. A nickname goes around, one only his closest friends know: "King Suguru."

One night he's out drinking with them, relaxing in some bar, getting wasted and getting high on himself. One of his friends brings in a girl who looks like she's just turned sixteen, I see it through the makeup. The girl is in way over her head but she doesn't know it, she doesn't know it because she's a kid, and she's stupid and she's trying to look like a grownup to be better than everyone else in her school.

Not before long I see someone crying in an alleyway, someone far too young to be curled up in a ball, stuck behind a garbage bin, with her clothes ripped apart. Kamoshida's standing over her with two of his buddies from the bar, and they decide to walk away after deciding to schedule another get together at the bar _tomorrow night_. They leave her there they leave her there and when Kamoshida realizes that they've left her there, he's already at the front door of his apartment. Kamoshida looks at himself, looks at his unzipped pants, then runs in his bathroom and holds himself throughout the whole night.

He doesn't tell anybody. And life goes on, as it does.

He doesn't go back to those friends of his, and he doesn't ever go to that bar again. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the girl holding herself. Every time he shuts his ears, he hears her weeping noises. Every time he punches something, punches a wall, he makes himself remember how much of a terrible person he is. But in his most private moments, all he can think of his how pretty she was, and lets himself be an animal.

He's not like everyone else. He's not. He's a good man. He's supposed to be.

When he wins the last big game of his senior year the crowd cheers him, calls him out, treats him like a king. He's supposed to be happy, why isn't he happy? Everyone's voices all coalesce into one big cheer and it shames him, it shames him deep inside. It's something twisting and turning in him, and it's burrowing into his heart his lungs his guts.

He thinks of telling everyone right there what he's done. Right there, on the spot, just vomiting out all the words. But he likes it. He likes hearing the crowd. He likes how they cheer his name. And of course he does. He's a king. Why shouldn't he like it? What does he have to feel bad for? What could possibly be wrong with him, with all these people cheering out his name?

He can't be a bad man. He isn't. He knows he isn't.

When he goes to college, he goes to one far away from his old friends, far away from the bar and the noises, and lets himself just be silent in everything except sports. It's in his nature, he can't stay away from sports. He's too good. The girls fawn over him, like they always do, but he still turns them down. They're too old for him, and he still has bad thoughts every now and again to that one night in the alley. The boys talk to him and he even trains some of them, they love how he drives them to be better than they are.

He doesn't tell anyone about what he did, or why he did what he did. The bigger part of him doesn't even know why he did what he did. But the smaller part he keeps locked away knows exactly why.

It's the same small part that drives him to look at things nobody should, to enter places nobody ever must. When he discovers the deep web from a friend, he looks for it because he knows the things that ebb away at him lie there. When he sees small, thin bodies like the ones he sees he's disgusted and he's enraged but at the same time he can't stop licking his lips and feeling so hollow yet so full.

Then the blood comes. Then he sees the red, he sees the kids with their eyes blown out and their bodies all mangled. And he knows that he is a better person than whoever posted those pictures.

With that knowledge, he can sleep.

He's an Olympian by the time he reaches his mid-20's and when he's up there on the stage again in front of all those people, the thought crosses his mind once more. He can't stop it from burning into himself. He wonders why? Why is he still thinking the things he's thinking? It was all in the past, there's nothing he can do, he doesn't even remember the girl's name. Why should he try to remember? Why should he try to fight it all? He's a king, he's loved by all the people. When he cries onstage on the day he wins, he ultimately passes it off as tears of joy when really he doesn't even know if he wants to keep on living.

But why should he not want to keep on living? Won't they be sad? Won't, won't his fans, his parents, his _friends_ miss him when he's gone? Won't he be remembered by them? Won't tears flow at his funeral? He doesn't see why not. He's done a lot of bad things, and he knows it, but in the end he's no better than anyone else. He's done so much good. People love him. He's not a bad person, he knows he can't be. What makes him so upset about all this? What makes him so scared, so sad? So empty about just everything?

He has a medal around his neck. He is a symbol of success. He alone is a standard that people can aspire to be. Why should he feel bad over some stupid thing he did when he was _drunk_? And you'd think, you'd think the girl would speak up to someone in the media, after all this time. But he hasn't heard a thing. He hasn't heard a thing at all, so the girl most likely got over it by now.

It doesn't matter, none of it matters. It's him, it's all him. People love him. So why can't he?

When the high of the win dies down, he realizes just how quickly people forget. And it's all a shame. The years roll by and sooner or later another man comes in and wins the world. Wins praise, wins trinkets. And it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't itch at him the way it does. It shouldn't make him remember how he used to be up there, as often as it does.

They tell you, when you're a child, to just be yourself, and everything will be fine, right?

So why shouldn't he just be himself? Why can't he just be proud with himself? Why does everyone have to smile at him, force him to fall to their expectations like they do? Them and their smiles, he sees his parents and hears them talk about how _proud_ they are of him. He sees the crowd and he can't bear to see the unrelenting horror on their faces. They don't deserve that, they deserve better.

They deserve a king, not a monster.

He's a king, he tells himself. He's a king. He's a king.

He has nothing to be sorry for. As long as he has that medal around his neck, it's a sign that everything he's won up to this point will be for nothing if he just gives up now. He's himself and he loves himself and he will never be anything other than what he is. Call him a monster, call him whatever you'd like. But in the end, he's a man. Just like anyone else.

Nobody could blame him. What would you do, in his shoes? What would you do?

What would you do?

* * *

When I return to myself, my hands are around Kamoshida's throat and he's gurgling up black blood. The fires are all around the both of us, as I see Takamaki just watching us, watching me. She looks at me with that look in her eyes she had earlier, that frightened horrified look that makes me feel like I've become a devil.

It's at this point I feel the black fluids that taste beyond bitter in my mouth. I see bite marks in Kamoshida's left trapezius, and as my teeth begin to chatter I taste the meat between them. The meat melts into more black as I stand up and cough it out, I cough and wheeze and breathe and ram my fingers down my throat to get rid of all the bitterness and the pain.

And I think of what I can say to Kana.

I think I'd first tell her I love her, if we'd ever get to meet again. That I've missed her, missed every bit of her. That seeing her smile would make days into memories, and moments. Hearing her laugh would make me wish I could live a thousand lifetimes with her and only her. That no matter what, I never forgot her or let go no matter the length of time between her falling asleep and waking up.

Then I would tell her about what I did. To her, and her family. And we would never see each other again. She means the world to me, still does even to this day. It's draining to think about her. But I need to. I need it all. If I let go, I'll forget. If I forget, she dies for real. And all that'll be left in me is this blank thing that doesn't even deserve to have a name.

She'd be disgusted with me, she'd hate me forever, she'd want absolutely nothing to do with me if she ever discovered what I was planning to do to him. I remember our conversation, about _1984_. Thoughtcrime, thought police. That is what I am going to get myself involved in. That's what I've been involved in since the end of my trial. Right under her nose.

But she can't matter right now. Can she?

Not when there's a man terrorizing his own students, and the only way to stop him is to go into his mind and completely brainwash him into becoming a decent human being. If not drive him mad. If not put him in a coma. If not kill him.

The Devil is the Prince of the world. And as such, in the world, it is so unbelievably easy to have the worst of yourself drawn out in the worst of circumstances.

I know I'm not doing this for them. I've not done anything for them. This is for me; it's just so I won't have to feel the weight of Kana's gaze. That's what I'd tell myself, then.

But now I don't even feel her anymore. I think of her, I imagine her, I crave her still. But I don't see her. I don't feel her, watching me. I don't hear her voice. Not even that yellow-eyed creature wearing her flesh. I don't have a trace of her at all.

I killed Shido, and I paid the price. But I know, I _know_ that if I hadn't...

I was and still am completely justified in what I had done. Rendering Kana comatose, that's on me. All of that's on me. Me, and the Wolf. But I didn't try to rape her. I didn't attack her, in the night; I didn't try pulling her into an alleyway in my drunken hedonism. It was Shido. All Shido.

Just like now. It's Kamoshida, all Kamoshida. I know I'm damned, I'm not going to deny that. But if I am damned, then I'll drag him down with me. Nothing a simple knife to the neck won't fix. It all sounds so simple, so natural. But this is exactly what I feared. I'm beginning to justify myself again, because it's easy for me to. It's easy for anyone to. And once I go back down into that place, I don't know if I'll ever get out.

And while I don't think that's necessarily a good thing, I think the fact that I feel actually more than a little _relieved_ is much more concerting.

But before I can justify myself any further, my guts leak out red. I feel something cold and steel. And before I can react, I'm lifted into the air.

I see what lifted me. Something monstrous with a billion bat wings for hair, something cruel and hissing. It is the fake Takamaki, the one wearing a bikini and who I'd often catch staring into nothing. But she's not how she was back then. Though she looks frail, she's carrying a greatsword twice her size and her legs are morphing into something long and slithery, something vile and putrid and I feel so cold when her eyes meet mine.

And when I'm whipped into the wall, everything goes black again.

* * *

When Makoto Niijima awakens, the first thing that hits her is the smell. Upon realizing she's got her face nuzzled against a plastic garbage bag, she rears her head back and tries to wipe off the stench and the transparent gunk.

She and Sakamoto and the cat are all in the alley they had gotten themselves and Takamaki into, right before entering the Palace. She looks, sees her aforementioned companions with their heads in the grime, and looks at herself. Her hands, her clothes, the areas on her body where she should have wounds. She's been healed. Even her clothes are fine, though that may be just the result of her being sent back into the real world. She turns to her allies and remembers that Morgana and Sakamoto were both knocked unconscious along with her, and it's not like they could have just _crawled_ back out from the Palace—

It's at this point that she realizes Takamaki's not with them. That she's been left there, inside the Palace, left to Kamoshida's whims. And Makoto remembers what Takamaki had told her, all that talk about Kamoshida calling her up and asking her to _sleep with him_ even though she's half his age, everything that Kamoshida had done to Shiho Suzui and in the end, it's her fault. Makoto was more or less okay with the idea of having Takamaki with them, fighting the Shadows even though she hasn't even awakened to a Persona. Makoto knew they needed more numbers, and she felt then that if Sakamoto could summon a Persona, if _she herself_ could summon a Persona, why couldn't Takamaki?

Surely, she'd get that feeling of anger, that burst of hatred and resentment towards Kamoshida. That's what Makoto was counting on. But she never expected anything like what had happened then. It was stupid of her, foolish of her. She underestimated their threat and overestimated her own gambits. She's sick of it, sick of it all, so sick of Kamoshida being free to do whatever he wants while crushing his boot over other people's heads, and the thing she was sick of most of all was how it had all happened _right under her nose_ , right when she could have stopped it but didn't, and she unwittingly helped let it all just _happen_.

And in the end she was so sick of it all that she may have ended up costing someone's life. But Makoto remembers that someone must have brought her here. Her, and Sakamoto, and Morgana. There was only one other person who was there, with them all at the entrance of the Palace. And now that one person and Takamaki are both alone, in a mental world filled with Shadows, armed with virtually nothing. Unless...

She grabs Sakamoto's body and heaves him out of the garbage, slapping him around and shaking him and she doesn't care who's watching. When he stirs, he coughs out some bits of dirt and gunk before he sees just who's in front of him, and actually starts talking again.

"S-senpai...?" he holds his head in pain then, muttering, "What happened...?"

"Kanzaki got us back to the real world after we fell unconscious. Now he's in the Palace, stuck with Takamaki."

It's at this point his eyes widen and he becomes well and wide awake, and the both of them turn to the cat, whose head is currently stuck between two heaping piles of black bags.

"H-hey! Can someone get me outta here!?" it exclaims. "Where am I!? A-and what's this smell—!?"

* * *

 _ **author's notes:**_

* * *

I took a lot of consideration in what Akira and the crew will do next, at this point, and ultimately what I've managed to come up with is something not even I expected to do. Expect some old Palaces, some new ones, characters being introduced at times they shouldn't be, Palaces being taken out of order, and in the end you'll find out just how far our hero is willing to go just to make sure people don't get hurt.

I'll even give a preview of one of the scenes of Chapter 2 right now:

* * *

 _"What are you here for?"_

 _"She was my friend," the girl says before shaking her head. "'Bout you? How'd you know Kana-chan...?"_

 _I purse my lips. "She was my girlfriend."_

* * *

Now for some explanation: Akira's status as an Anomaly is mainly a result of him having a split personality. Once, his psyche was unified, but thanks to all the trauma and mental taxation he's suffered over such a long course of months, trauma that began the night he killed Shido, he's developed a second personality borne from his worse aspects. This personality is fed further by Nyarlathotep's influence; Akira's on-screen personality, the one we see the most of, the rational and relatively sane-minded version of Akira we've grown to know, is the section of his psyche that's been segmented away from Nyarly's power.

Akira has a Persona in this personality, because it is through this personality that Akira was able to overcome himself and accept his own will to rebel. As for his other personality...

Let's just say there's a different reason from canon as to why he'll be codenamed Joker.

Now, as for Kamoshida, I'd wager his arc will end in either Section XII or XIII. But it's coming to a close soon. Sorry if you guys were getting impatient and just wanted Kamoshida beaten up already, but I wanna add some more scenes of Akira and the Thieves interacting more with each other, as well as a few more scenes with Kamoshida himself.

And as for Akira accessing Kamoshida's memories, that'll be explained too, in a little bit.


	22. Chapter I, X

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

True to the cat's statements, Suguru Kamoshida has been doing this sort of thing for a long time. Far too long for it to be reasonable.

I'd see him in one scene just standing in a single room, a girl right in front of him and no one else. A girl my age, one I do not recognize. She's wearing the Shujin female uniform and Kamoshida's just looking at her impassively, calmly ordering for her to strip. I recognize the room they're in as the nurse's office of the school, and though the girl looks unfathomably disturbed by what he's ordered her to do she does it. And he buries himself into her neck, her hair. Then the memory ends and we shift to somewhere else.

Another girl, someone a little older, but not by much. She's wearing leather, her skirt is short, her heels are high, and her face is thick with makeup to make her look far older than she actually is. This one actually looks consensual in a way, from the look in her eyes to the way he props her up to the way her legs lock around his back as he lifts her up and down in repeated motions. But in the end, minors can't consent. And more to the point I do not recognize this girl either; they aren't even in Shujin, they're just in some random back alley against a wall, somewhere that resembles Shinjuku.

Another girl, wearing a soccer uniform. She's from Shujin, but even this one I don't recall seeing; she's got short hair and hazel eyes and she's looking at Kamoshida bashfully. The next moment I see her trying to compose herself in a gym locker, Kamoshida pushing her out as he tells her to go home. He retracts when he sees how roughly he's handling her and his voice turns calm even as she continues to cry and grip the sides of her arms.

Too many to count. More than you can imagine, it seems for a moment. Names, I hear, passing like clouds. Hikimura. Yamagata. Tanaka. Mimura. Takagawa. Ogata. All these scenes pass by and none of them stop the bitter hole in my heart from growing wider and wider. The spiral continues on, as does the madness. There's tears often, from the women; when there aren't tears, there's restrained rage, and when there's not rage there's resignation, and when there's neither there is simply pleasure and debauchery and depravity. All of these, after the first girl, the one with the tattered clothes in the alleyway. The first one he...

My hand doesn't twitch, my blood's not racing. There's just some uncontrollable _nothing_ gripping the center of my chest, asking a billion questions that I should already know the answers to. Why did he do any of these things? Because he enjoys it. Why doesn't he confess to the police? Because it'd ruin everything he's built. Why does he try to rationalize it? So he won't feel guilty. Basic questions, basic answers. Unbelievably depraved, unabashedly simple.

Or so it sounds.

People of his kind are astounding, I've to admit. Seeing his mind, seeing how everything falls in place. It really isn't just him, all things considered. It rips at him at times, and it ripped at him then; his profoundly repugnant inner self. Yet it's the crowd that enables him to reject reformation, the crowd that he uses to deny anything wrong with himself; to rationalize his unforgivable actions. There are the pressures he faces as well as both a teacher and a former Olympian; the past glories he endured have become memories, and his current world is filled with responsibilities that are far less than someone of his stature deserves. At least to him.

He's become sociopathic in his pursuit of some sort of escape from the pressures and responsibilities of his mundane life after fame. And he's found that escape in the form of women, particularly younger ones. Perhaps he seeks them out as a way to exert his dominance; after all, to have someone younger and of smaller constitution than he in his clutches would almost definitely rouse him in more ways than one. Perhaps he does it merely because of sexual attraction; ephebophiles and pedophiles tend to lack empathy towards those they harm and more often than not are shocked when their victims fight back against them. He is diseased; and yet he fears rejection from the crowd, rejection from the world, so he hides his disease under a mask of nobility and humility.

He is undeniably monstrous. Irreparably vile. Unabashedly criminal and deserving of seventy life sentences for all his depravities. And yet, it all makes sense. It is horrible, it is reprehensible, it is heartrending to see what he does to others and infuriating how he's become so adjusted to it all.

Yet it makes sense.

It is at this point that I see him alone, in an empty faculty office. He's sitting in a chair and waiting for someone to come through the door. His heart is pounding, racing. His pants are tight and his hands are sweating. I can't tell if he's enraged or if he's aroused. His body is warm and he sees someone come through the door. Someone younger than he, someone my age.

Someone from Shujin, someone I recognize.

He's looking at her, eyeing her bruises on her face and on her neck and in her eye and on her knee. He's looking at her chest now, as she turns uncomfortably. Then her waist, then her thighs. The girl is holding her arms and she's turning away from him. She doesn't want to look at him, she doesn't even want to be in the same room as him. So she asks why she's needed, she wants to go home, she can't stay here. And all he can think of is _how much he can't stop seeing her squirm_. He loves the way her eyes scrunch up and how she purses her lips when he comes closer, when he gets up from his seat and comes _closer_.

His nose is in her hair and his lips are merely brushing against her neck as he whispers to her how much he cannot understate the importance of the both of them keeping quiet. She nods, but she trembles and she's cringing as she nods, his voice is hissing with intent and though he tries to sound cordial she knows that every intonation is punctuated with relentless want.

And then he says, "I promise I'll be gentle with you," in a soft voice, and she wants nothing more than to leave at that very moment, and he knows she wants to leave. He knows she's being resistant. "This is all your friend's fault," he says. "Don't blame me. Just close your eyes. It'll all be over before you even know it."

When I awaken then I'm breathing without breathing and coughing up spit and blood and bile. There's a thousand little things bursting out from one single spot in my chest and they're all the color red. I'm writhing around on the ground and the pain is like a bear has just run its massive paw through my guts and out through the other side. Without medical attention I'll surely die, and though I'm calling the insect legs at the back of my skull, though I remember the pact I've made and will forever regret making, the wound does not heal. The wound still bleeds out red.

And at once my vision goes hazy. The world is a blur, fires flaring and fading into oranges and reds. My whole body's twitching and I hear screaming that just fades into a neverending cacophony of blaring sounds. Something red is charging towards me, and when I'm dragged by the shoulders I see blonde tousles dangling over my head. I see someone wearing a red mask calling out for me, calling out my name; her face is clear and yet the clearer her face becomes the quieter her voice gets.

Then she stops gripping my shoulders as some amorphous shape takes hold of my vision. There's a new noise now; it sounds like rain rapping against windows, like horse hooves beating against mud, like a stampede of elephants. I hear a scream, and a dark mass whips aside the red shape; I hear the real Ann Takamaki's body crash against the wall as the mass widens and finally takes form. Blades burst out from behind the creature before taking on the shape of bat wings. Pale, ivory skin transforms into a dark purple. Gold embroideries pattern themselves on the creature's dark flesh, resembling flowers and leaves. Its tongue is white and its eyes are blazing yellow. It is naked, and its waist has become a serpent's tail.

The creature rises up and it starts eating the other girls in the room, the pink high school girls wearing their PE uniforms and stretching in all manner of poses, the monster devours them alive. They don't scream, they don't cry; indeed, I hear laughter, something like a climax even. Then it stands over me, its dark form looming over as it grabs me by my shoulders.

It licks my face, licks the gaping hole in my chest as I hear the name of the fake Takamaki echo.

 _Naamah. Naamah. Naamah._

I hear the real Ann Takamaki call out my name again as my fingers and feet go numb, my spine cracking as I cough up gallons of red. Her tongue enters the gash in my chest and I feel it licking my lungs, my liver, my heart; my whole body trembles as the pain fades into something like an ecstasy, something like a high, and I remember the Kana in my dreams. I remember the Masako in my dreams. How I drove them out of my house and how I regretted it so, how I dove out to chase after them. How that would probably be the last time I'd ever have a conversation with either of them ever again. Even in a dream.

I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I didn't know what else to do.

Then Naamah's maw widens as her teeth grow sharp enough to shatter concrete, she rears her head up and I see fires flare from her mouth—

And then something bright blue crashes into the creature's mouth, and she unhands me as I fall back onto the carpet. Three figures burst into the room. One of whom is a woman in an iron mask, and once she immediately sees me, she calls my name. I hear her voice as clear as day, and I'm surprised to feel something like joy at the sight of her.

"Kanzaki!"

* * *

 **\- SECTION X -  
And as I see the back of her head, something in me doesn't want her to go.  
**

* * *

For a moment, I wonder how they could have determined our location. Then I figure they just needed to follow the noise.

Naamah rears back and hisses, her claws sharpening and her topaz eyes flaring up. Makoto Niijima commands Sakamoto to take care of the demonic creature along with her, while she has the cat run to my bloody corpse in the middle of the room. Naamah sees the cat, grins toothily and tries to swipe at it with the blade, but I hear Niijima and Sakamoto cry out the names of their Personas. Captain Kidd sends a thunderbolt to Naamah's face, and the sparks burn into her tongue and eyes and mouth.

The Shadow lunges after the two of them then, Sakamoto crying out to the cat, "G-get him outta here quickly!"

Then Niijima cries out, "I don't know how long we can hold her!"

The cat hears them, and puts its gloved paws on my guts and the gore without so much as batting an eye. "You've a habit of putting yourself in danger, don't you?"

I want to tell it to _shut up_ , but the pain locks my throat and stifles any sort of coherent thought that could possibly form. The pain gets to my head and all of a sudden everything's cold. When everything stops being cold, it gets numb.

Again, I keep seeing Kana. Blurs of her, her and Masako. Memories of us together, the days brighter and not dampened with red. Like phantoms, they disappear every time my hand reaches out. Is this Nyarlathotep's doing, or do I just miss them that desperately? Kana on the train, Masako in my lap. Kana sleeping on the _kotatsu_ , her hair splayed out in every direction. Masako flipping through pages and listening intently. Kana in a hospital bed with splinters sticking out of her, her face mangled; Masako letting go and being put in a small black box—

I think of Shido, of all people, and then surviving becomes easy.

When I'm able to breathe again, I clutch at my chest and though my shirt is torn and stained with my own gore, I'm admittedly more than grateful that I'm still alive. But I'd never admit that, not to the cat. So I sit up and whip myself around to see the madness unfolding right before my eyes.

The scene goes by in blurs and wipes. Adrenaline, keeping me from seeing the full picture; people and monsters and fire and lightning. I see the room being torn asunder, and yet no details make themselves clear. I see a shape grabbing silver, one that was on the ground moments ago; the shape rises and rams the silver into a larger and wilder and more monstrous form.

All that is clear is the clawed hand gripping my shoulder, the monster that is my other self.

 _Call my name,_ it demands, _allow me to be yours._

A spark hits my brain and all I see is a flaring red dragon, dredged up from the bowels of my iniquity. Before I can even get up I see someone running towards me, and my vision clears and it's the real Ann Takamaki in her red leather outfit. She's grabbing my arms, and I see two figures running behind her as well, one of them being the woman in the iron mask.

For a moment I wonder why she'd ask such a thing, then I see Naamah.

Smiling with her thousand-tooth maw, coughing up flame and bile, the sword she used against me moments ago protruding from the center of her chest; she's coming towards us, clawing and crawling and slithering and hissing yet still alive, still wanting to eat us all in the portal to Hell she has for a mouth.

Naamah then lunges forward, at me and at Takamaki, leaping over Niijima and Sakamoto and the cat, and before the three of them can save me in any fashion I push Takamaki out of the way and glare right into the portal of fire and understand exactly what I need to do.

"Mephistopheles."

The Plasterer of Lies barrels forward from my head as a black overcoat forms over my body. A porcelain mask flares up over my eyes as my Persona grabs the upper and lower jaw of Naamah. The fires spout at him, scorching him and spluttering like dying flames, the fires so hot I can feel my nose being scalded. The jaws try to clamp down on Mephistopheles and he does not waver in the slightest, yet the strain keeps him in place as his arms widen Naamah's mouth.

When the black blood spills, it spills like an oil leak. The fires rise high enough to burn through the ceiling as Naamah's tongue lashes about. Mephistopheles unhands the Shadow's jaws; Naamah's left with her mouth open so wide, the top of her head is touching the back of her neck, and the back of her chin is touching her throat.

Naamah falls to the ground then, her roars shrill and loud enough to make an entire stadium full of people dumb and deaf and blind. She writhes on the ground, lashing and thrashing about like a headless chicken. As the black sprays all around and I watch it happen, I realize I'm nowhere else but here. I'm standing right here. Niijima and Sakamoto stand back as the cat orders everyone to stay still and make no sudden movements, something about how _it's too dangerous to try and attack it now_.

But then Naamah's hand lands, crashes to the ground. It rears itself up, facing us with the open hole it has for a throat as its tongue and lower jaw dangle helplessly. And they all see what I saw. A trillion souls writhing around in her throat, all begging us to never let her _eat us_ , that to wallow in the fire with them is a fate they would not wish upon anyone.

The first of us to charge forward, is of course Ann Takamaki herself.

" _Carmen_!"

I see her Persona, large and beautiful and grand and fatal. Her dress and her pigtails flail and billow in the air as she rushes forward in a mad dash, and I do emphasize the _mad_. The flames engulf her and she opens her arms wide to Naamah, who lashes out and lunges; Carmen's hand, Carmen's arm rams itself into the flaming throat and pulls, and reaches, and grabs at something.

Takamaki's arm twitches, and soon the pain is enough for her to fall to her knees and scream. Yet she keeps her eyes forward. Niijima and Sakamoto run to her, the former asking the cat what's wrong. Yet Takamaki keeps her eyes forward. The cat explains that it's normal, that any pain her Persona experiences will be felt on her physical body; Takamaki keeps her eyes forward, on Naamah, glaring as though the creature is something that must be wiped clean from the planet without a trace.

Carmen raises her hand, and we all see that she's grasping the sword that had been impaled right in Naamah's chest just a few moment's ago. There's a vertical cut now, all the way from Naamah's sternum to the stump she has for a throat. Not before long more black spills, and Naamah's serpentine corpse crashes to the ground without so much as a bounce.

Takamaki's eyes are dull, and her breaths are heavy. She's shaking now, and she moves her head aimlessly. She closes her eyes and bites her lower lip as she growls and hunches over, still gripping her arm as she falls face first into the floor.

"T-Takamaki...!" cries Niijima, grabbing her.

"What happened...!?" cries Sakamoto.

"She's tired. You were all pretty tired when you got your Personas first, remember?," says cat. "None of you taxed yourselves like she did."

Niijima examines her face, her pulse. Takamaki is still breathing, which is more than a relief. Niijima then turns to me, and I share her gaze. I say then, "We need to get out of here before more show up."

Without skipping a beat, she says, "Agreed."

"Drive Takamaki out of here," I tell her. "Sakamoto, the cat, and I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"I'm sure. She's dead weight; we can't afford to _carry_ her to the exit. You're the only one with a vehicle, and your Persona can manage two passengers."

Though I'm cruelly blunt, and she knows it, she shares my judgment. But then her brows knot, and she says, "Wait. I can't."

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Guards patrolling the place. Moreso than usual. If I try to bust my way through the castle and out the door, I might get myself and Takamaki in more trouble."

"Right," I grunt then. "There's got to be some other way..."

"Wait...," the cat then interrupts. We turn to it, and it says, "the hallways aren't _that_ narrow...I think I'll be able to get us all out of here."

"How so?" I ask it.

It smiles widely, "Okay! Everyone stand back!" and then it prances over to the middle of the room as we all tread backward. It stretches its arms out and gesticulates as though it's on _Neo Ranger Featherman_ , and even cries out "Morgana... _hen-shin_!"

And it then leaps into the air. When it lands, its ten times its size; its arms and legs have become wheels; its eyes have become headlights; its once furry form can now occupy six people, and comes complete with padded cushions.

"Wh-what the...!?" cries Sakamoto. "H-how'd you turn into a car!?"

"For some reason, _Cats Turning Into Buses_ is an extremely widespread cognition among the general public."

Even I can't stop myself from letting out a _pffft_ noise. Miyazaki didn't even know what he was doing when he made _Totoro_. But then I realize. "If we _do_ run into some trouble...can you just run them over?"

"I'm not driving," cat says.

"You serious...?" Sakamoto asks.

"I'm a car! I need someone to drive me! Sorry to say that people haven't yet internalized the idea of _Cats Turning Into Self-Driving Buses_!" it cries out.

" _Fine_ , but can you run over Shadows without any issue?" I ask, trying to get all this over and done with.

"Depends on the kind of trouble," the cat says. "If we run into the Shadow that _blew us up_ outside the gates, most likely not. Smaller Shadows, I think I'll be able to just boulder through."

"I'll drive," Niijima tells me. "I've already got a license."

"Okay," I sigh. "Fine. I have an idea."

"What kind?" Niijima asks.

I turn to Sakamoto, "How good is your grip?"

All he can ask me is a flat, "What?"

And then we hear a strained roar coming up from behind us. A corpse rising up from the floor, writhing and slithering and hissing; it's bleeding still from its gaping maw of a head and the fires are continuing to spurt and splutter out and it's still alive, Naamah is still alive, it's roaring at us and vomiting out its black gore and _it's still alive_ —

" _GET IN THE CAR_!" Niijima cries out, pulling Takamaki over as I push Sakamoto—

* * *

Ann Takamaki dreams a little in her sleep. She doesn't make out most of the details in time before she wakes up, but she dreams about an old friend. In younger years; Ann remembers drawing alone in a corner of the room, the other children not willing to even tread by her. The room itself is noisy, colorful, and cold. Ann draws something that she thinks looks wonderful, looks incredible, but could be a little better. Then someone with dark hair comes and tells her her drawing sucks.

Ann stirs open, a shaking and jittering motion waking her. She thinks she can compare this motion to a past experience she had with a particularly stubborn taxi driver; she can just remember being in a backseat, the seatbelt unable to keep her still no matter how tight it is around her waist. Wheels scraping against a rough road, car bouncing up and down, the driver sweating and telling her to stay calm. But this time, she sees Makoto Niijima in the driver's seat. She's again in the back, and out the windows she sees walls and draperies, glorious things fit for a _castle_.

She remembers what just happened then.

"Wh-what's going on...!?" she cries.

"T-Takamaki!" Makoto stammers out, keeping her eyes off the road for just a moment, "G-glad you're awake!"

"Niijima, what...!?"

"Things got bad! Figured we had to retreat! Things got _worse_!" Niijima responds, because she knows she won't be able to make full sentences in all the chaos.

"Wait, wh-where's Ryuji and Kanzaki!?"

"On the roof," says the cat.

"A-and where's the _cat_!?"

"You're _in me_!" it responds.

" _What_!?"

" _Talk later_! Sakamoto, in front! Silver knight!"

" _On it_!"

* * *

 _This is the worst idea you've ever had._

Was the first thing that came to mind when I thought it up. Sakamoto _and_ Niijima shared my sentiments. But in the end, it was our best option. Niijima was our driver out of here. Sakamoto's Persona and mine were good on offense, or at the very least acceptable.

Velocity didn't cause us that much trouble. But we have Naamah coming up right behind us and we'll most likely run into some knights up ahead. The moment either of them get the drop on us, we're dead. So Sakamoto and I are on the roof of this catbus, to make sure that doesn't happen.

Black blood spills over Sakamoto's mask as the knight he just elecrified bursts like a water balloon. The knight's guts and gore messes up the cat's bumper and tires, but the car soldiers on; Niijima does not try to remark on this as the window's wipers work their magic and clean the gunk off the windshield—

Meanwhile the cat just groans, "This is a mess! You're getting Shadow gunk in my wheels! _Blegh_!"

"We'll give ya a bath once we get outta here...!" Sakamoto grunts, gripping the row of headlights atop the car as he spits out a stray piece of black in his mouth. "Glasses! How's things back there!?"

"She's not too close but not far enough!" I call out fire spells out of something essential within me, and Mephistopheles works his magic. Red and orange and blue flare out into the world, melting armors and forcing Naamah back just a few more precious meters.

I can hear Niijima's heavy breaths from where I am, even as she cries out, "A-anyone wounded up there!?"

"No!"

"Nada!"

I cry out then, "Keep moving, how far are we until the exit!?"

"We'll be out once we make the next few corners—"

 _Bump, crash._

Takamaki exclaims, " _Oh God please help us_ —!"

"What happened!?" I cry out.

"W-we hit something!"

"N-now there's wood in my wheels!" the cat cries as I see we've passed by a destroyed, waist-high table. "I'm gonna have splinters once I become a cat again...!"

"Least all you'll be _getting_ are splinters!" shouts Sakamoto.

"Sakamoto! Front again! Golden knight this time!"

Sakamoto's Persona blasts out another bolt of lightning and the car rams into the knight as he's literally almost thrown off the bus from the force of the crash alone, and he cries out, "We're gonna die here!"

"Glad that you're still so optimistic after all this," I mutter, gripping on the top headlights facing the back end of the bus. Naamah is not coming close enough to be much of a danger, and while she's clawing after us her wounds stop her from making too good a distance. At this rate, by the time we get to the front gate, she'll be struggling just to get in our line of sight. "You know where we're going, Niijima!?"

"Just gotta make it 'round this corner...!" and then we hear Niijima gasp.

"Come on...!"

"This is gonna hurt...," moans the cat.

I see what's bothering them all of a sudden.

* * *

A pair of wooden doors. Once they were busted down, we find ourselves crashing back into the lobby. The wood shatters as the cat's bumper gets busted to pieces. Pieces of wood and stone blocks have broken through the cat's windows, but none of the passengers are dead yet. Takamaki screams from inside the bus as Niijima calls my name. Sakamoto whips around to see what's happened and I'm left so stunned I can't even react.

The cat's screaming and I'm screaming and everyone's screaming as the car lands into the lobby. The world spins and everything turns black for too long a moment for it to be any kind of good. When I'm able to see again, something's blaring into my arm, my side, my head, my legs. When I look at my leg I feel almost grateful that I've escaped the crash with only a snapped ankle.

I've little in the way of grievous injuries, so I turn to see if anyone else has survived. The catbus is no longer there; instead there's just a bleeding, bulbous-headed cat-creature struggling even to get up. Sakamoto's unconscious, and I can't discern whether or not he's still breathing. Takamaki's still awake, though she's coughing up blood and can't seem to properly use her left arm—it is slack as she tries pushing herself up on her right arm.

Before I can even wonder where Niijima is, I turn and I see her standing up. Her knees are bent, and she's gripping her shoulder, and she's bleeding out the mouth and the shoulder and the side, but she's still standing. For a moment, I wonder why she's standing, why she's glaring.

I turn to where she's looking and I see.

A knight with red wings and a flaming sword. Standing at the top of the staircase. Its blade flares and its eyes burn red. It looms over us like an angel of death, and I glares back at Makoto. I remember this knight; it nearly burnt my face off the first time we saw it.

Before we can even deal with this, Naamah crashes through into the same room. Roaring violently, madly; despite bleeding from seemingly every orifice and struggling to even survive as it is now.

Takamaki gets up before I do. Sakamoto and the cat are left in the dirt to suffer; we can't help them right now. All that matters is ending this as fast as possible. Kamoshida's gonna come, sooner or later. He'll bring a thousand men, and by then we'll be too weak to deal with them—that is, if we even _survive_ through the angel and Naamah.

Can't run out the door, they'll catch us. Can't waste time trying to get Sakamoto and the cat up, the Shadows'll come upon us faster than we can even manage. All that we can do is fight.

It's at this point Niijima leans in and whispers into my ear. It is a stupid, horrible, terrifying plan that will most likely get us killed. But in the end, I concede that it might be our best option. Still, I can't help but ask her, "Are you crazy?"

She smirks, despite everything. "You're asking _me_ that, after what _you_ just suggested?"

At that, even I have to laugh in one final " _Ha_!"

I rush forward as Niijima orders Takamaki to _get everyone else out of here, drag them out if she has to_ —and I decide to deal with Naamah quickly. Mephistopheles comes from my skull as I tear my mask off my face. Niijima's plan is, like I said, stupid and horrible and terrifying. But I think it'll work. It has to. Mephistopheles hurdles over Naamah's gaping, bleeding, flaming maws and gets around behind her, at her tail—it strains my arms, I can feel my muscles tighten and my tendons strain, but in the end Mephistopheles is able to pull it off.

Naamah roars and cries and thrashes about impotently as Mephistopheles does a throw. The serpentine creature flails in the air, the angel too distracted by Makoto and Johanna doing donuts right underneath him to really pay heed to the giant snake-woman about to crash right into him—

—when it happens, the body hits with the force of a semi-truck hitting an oak tree. The angel crashes to the ground, his armor cracked and bent and dented, black bursting out from the impact alone. Then more doors bust open, from every side. Knights, silver and golden. Kamoshida in the middle of it all. He calls out for us to die, for us to be executed right on the spot, and the crossbows pop up and the bolts fire at our weak selves—

—but before any of them can hit, Niijima and Takamaki and I have carried the cat and Sakamoto out the front door.

* * *

Sakamoto wakes up the moment we get him out of the Palace. The moment the cat heals him up, and everyone else.

He asks what's happened, why Takamaki's shuddering in the alleyway, how we got out, if anything we just did truly meant anything. We tell him we escaped by the skin of our teeth. That Takamaki just barely survived, along with the rest of us. That we literally ran out the front door with people shooting crossbows at us. That no, nothing we did meant anything.

Kamoshida's Palace is still up. Shiho Suzui is still in a coma. No change of heart would occur at all. The mission was a failure.

Of course, neither Sakamoto nor Takamaki feel very good. The former is the first to ask if he can just go home. Takamaki goes with him, since they live nearby. As they walk away, they're hunched over and more leaning on each other than anything else; they're trudging ahead, not walking. The cat vanishes mere moments after Sakamoto and Takamaki leave us.

Without even saying goodbye.

Before I know it everything goes black for a few moments. I awaken in the alleyway again, Niijima waking me up. She says I blacked out. When I think about it, I realize I can't even stand, I'm so exhausted. My arms feel like noodles. Every time I move my legs I feel an explosion. Breathing is a labor, and it takes everything I have to keep my breakfast inside me.

Niijima offers to get me to a nurse, I shrug her off, say it's nothing. I don't want to waste anyone else's time. She persists, and so do I. When she gives up persisting, she asks if she can at least take me home. I'm about to shrug her off again, when an invisible knife stabs me on my right.

Wounds may have healed. But every cell screams with agony. Strained myself, my mind, my everything just moments ago. My eyes burn with something I never felt before, not once. I want to sleep, but at the same time my heart races. My lungs are cold, but my hands are warmer than they've ever been.

So Niijima takes me back to Leblanc. She helps me up whenever I'm about to fall flat on my face. She doesn't try to make small talk, and neither do I. It's a long, excruciating, and painfully awkward trip back. She doesn't even look at me most of the trip. But I'm grateful, inasmuch as I can be.

Luckily, Sakura-san isn't indoors at the moment. So she takes me up to the attic when we reach the coffee shop. She doesn't remark upon the place itself, nor the scent of coffee pervading the air, nor the fact that I live in an attic that's coated in dust bunnies.

She sits me down on my bed, and then is about to head back down the stairs. But she stops herself halfway through, and turns back to me. Though she's exhausted she takes the time to put me in bed. Even tuck me in, like she's some sort of mother. I don't try to stop her; I don't think I would be able to, even if I wished for it. She heads downstairs, and I hear some rummaging noises; she comes back up with a thermometer. Washed already, of course.

She puts it in my mouth and I almost object, but she grabs a towel from her backpack and heads back downstairs. Once she returns she places the wet towel over my forehead, and waits for a few more minutes.

I almost tell her she doesn't have to do this. I almost want her to stop. But I doubt my protests'll really get through to her. She pulls out the thermometer and mouths _Thirty-nine_ , and places a hand on my neck.

"Get some rest," she says then. "You're sick," and she gets a piece of paper from one of her notebooks, and hands it to me once she's done writing on it. "Call this number if you need anything. Who's your guardian?"

"You didn't have to do this...," I say in a voice no louder than a whisper.

"Who's your guardian?" she asks again. "Where is he?"

"He's...out," I reply. "I don't know where..."

"Okay. Make sure you tell him you need a doctor. You'll most likely be bedridden over the next few days. You can call me if you need anything," she says as she places the piece of paper on the cupboard beside my bed. "Get well soon," she says informally as she gets up from the bed.

"Why did you do this?" I ask her. "I've done nothing for you."

"This is the least I can do," she says. "You did save me, earlier. I'm just returning the favor, is all."

And as I see the back of her head, something in me doesn't want her to go.

"Her name was Kana," I say suddenly.

* * *

 ** _author's notes:_**

* * *

 **So, here's the first sign of Makoto and Akira's kind-of relationship! I hope you liked how they started off and I hope y'all stick around for the next chapter! What now will become of Akira and Makoto? Will Kamoshida's Palace finally be conquered? Tune in for the exciting...penultimate section? Special thanks to everyone who said I should go free reign! :D**

 **EDIT: Changed chapter name.**


	23. Chapter I, XI

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

She knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"I saved her from Shido." She stops in her tracks. She turns. I sit up in the bed as she draws closer. She's slow and she's careful. She doesn't tread any further than halfway across the room until I continue speaking. "Her name was Kana. Kana Kohaku. After what happened with Shido, she and her family, it...fell apart. All of it."

"What happened...?" she asks.

I scoff, smirking bitterly, "Not surprised you don't know. News just sort of left her in the dust once the trial was over, nobody seemed particularly interested in her side of the story."

It hits me then. If I reveal what happened to Kana's family. She looks pensive, but she doesn't seem aware. And I remember. I remember seeing how little about Kana's family, even _Masako_ , the articles held...and I'm bitter again.

"Her mother had a nervous breakdown and it just...Kana's daughter..."

"Daughter...?" Niijima rears back in horror.

"Kana got pregnant at fourteen," I murmur. "I wasn't the father. But Masako was my child. Kana fell depressed after everything ended; the stress of everything caught up to her and I'd just see her every day with voids where her eyes should've been. So I tried to fix it. I tried to stop it. I saw the app in my phone for the very first time and I..."

She frowns then. She doesn't do it out of anger, but more out of a sincere desire to know. "How did you...?"

"I just...I saw it, one day," I reply. And then I decide to leave out details of the creature that's taken refuge in my head, because that's a whole can of worms I don't want to bring up right now. "Tried to delete it, but ended up opening it. Saw the entries, and I...I ended up saying Kana's name, and then it...her Palace..."

Niijima doesn't ask, and she purses her lip. I realize she's pursing her lip and keeping silent when I feel my hand tremble and my voice grow weak.

" _She_ was her Palace," I say outright. "She was the Palace owner, and _she_ was the Palace. And her distortion...," I stop talking then for a long time, because all the memories are coming back again, and I remember seeing the thousand-foot tall behemoth, I remember the creature that came from underneath its belly right from its rotted uterus. "I tried saving her, and now she's in a hospital. She doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't do anything that made her _her_ , and I can't be anywhere near her. I can't be anywhere near her or else someone in the hospital might _recognize_ me and..."

She looks at me, and she puts a hand to her mouth slowly. Her free hand trembles a little as she recovers herself. She doesn't cry, she doesn't say a word. She just breathes, because she knows that if she tries to say anything to make me feel _better_ she'll just look so utterly sanctimonious.

Niijima's placing a hand on my shoulder now, trying to get me to calm myself. Trying to do something nice, because she knows that talking won't solve anything. Her eyes, her mouth, her _face_ says too much. Her touch is warm, and gentle, and the concern she feels is something I don't deserve. It's not something I want. It's not something I need.

And the more I look at her face and how much I've made her _pity_ me, something like fury settles in me once again and I can't control it.

"Everything died down quicker than I expected. Government's already found other candidates to take Shido's place. Paparazzi isn't trying to hound me, people don't really even bring up Shido. You see the news, nobody mentions it at all, not after all these months. It's all like none of it ever happened. Or like it happened, and it didn't even matter. Not even Kana mattered. Not even..."

I shrug her hand off of me and she winces a little, winces at my sudden brusqueness. She gives that look a thousand other supposed sympathizers gave. I remember seeing them all over the net, bringing up my privilege and talking about how I was a _champion for women's rights_ in saving one girl, I remember them all talking about Shido and how literally everyone knew about his more unsavory tendencies but they'd _shut up_ because they were too scared.

That self-righteous, pitying sort of look in her eyes. The one people give out to make themselves look pained, like they have empathy. She may not even be intending it, she's most likely just genuinely upset and sad and angry _like I am_ , but I'm just so sick of her eyes.

"Everyone just forgot about all of it, everyone but me. It didn't matter. The only reason they care now, the people in Shujin, is because Kamoshida leaked the info. I'm some killer to them." I turn to Niijima, and she looks like she can't believe what I'm saying. I revel in her shock, in her horror, as I bare my teeth and laugh, "Sure, I killed him. I'm not gonna deny it. If given the chance, I'd do it again. Forever and ever. I killed him to protect someone I cared about, who wouldn't? But it didn't matter, and it doesn't matter, and it won't ever matter, because in the end I killed someone big, someone who could have made the world go round. And these people can't approve of that."

Niijima just watches me. She doesn't say a thing, because she knows she can't; she knows that I'll be even more enraged than I already am, and she knows that anything she'd say would ultimately mean nothing. But she's listening. She's listening very intently. Not once does she try to interrupt, even when I decide to ridicule her in my anger over the face she's giving.

"It's all a joke, _your_ justice. You don't decide what justice is, _they do_. The only reason anybody brought up Shido's mistakes after the fact was because they were _free_ to. Kinda courage is that? Some of them _worked_ with Shido. Some of them recommended him to their friends, told them to work under him. Then he dies, and suddenly they're all victims. And where was Kana in all that? Where was she, in all those articles? Did any of them even care? No. All they cared about was patting themselves on the back, and calling out a dead man for his failings as a person. Meanwhile, the girl all this madness got started over rots in a hospital, and nobody's saying a thing. This girl's mother and father and _daughter_ are all dead. Did you know that?"

Her eyes are wide and she says nothing.

"Of course you didn't," I grit my teeth, "they didn't say a thing. Because no one wanted to say a thing about how the mother got a mental breakdown, killed the father and the baby. Everyone was so keen on making themselves out to be heroes and making Shido out to be the villain that they all just forgot about the only ones who mattered."

Niijima's looking at me, though something in her doesn't want to, and I see it in the highlights in her eyes. Her body shifts such that it's facing away from me, but she keeps her brown eyes on me, her brown eyes that flare red in the light of the sunset. She wants me to continue. She wants me to keep talking. And though she's more than a little disturbed by what I have had to say, and I can tell by the way her hands have balled into fists and the way those fists tremble, she wants to keep listening.

And I myself am unaware of how much of a weight I'm pushing off my shoulders just because I'm able to actually _talk_ to someone again.

I see her face and I grit my teeth. "Why?"

She blinks then, deciding to respond, "Why what?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask her, even though I know. I ask her, because I can no longer stand her pity. "You're not saying anything and you're staying silent and you want to hear me talk some more, why? Shouldn't you hate me, loathe me, fear me like everyone else does? You should, you should despise me all the more now. I put an innocent girl in a coma."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault," I immediately rebut her. "It was all my fault."

"You tried to protect her," is all she says, all she can say.

And I hate her, I hate her so much because she's saying such simple things that don't mean anything at all, simple things that shouldn't hurt me as much as they do and for a moment I think about telling her about Masako and Kana's parents and the Wolf who handed me the gun—

—and I can't do any of that because I'd be using a dead little girl simply to make myself look more like a monster. And I'd be pitied all the more.

But Niijima's looking at me in something like shock again, now. Her mouth is agape and she moves one of her hands up, but sets it back down almost immediately.

I realize I'm crying. There's tears falling from my eyes, and though they're not gushing out like fountains they're noticeable and rush out at a frequent enough rate that I have to rub my eyes.

"I tried to save her—" I say, deciding to get to the point immediately. "I tried to do the right thing, but all I did was ruin her. All I did was put her in a hospital, force her into a sleep from which she may never wake up. She—she made me want to be a good person, don't you understand?"

Niijima doesn't say a word, and her fists stop trembling. She doesn't look at me with pity, not anymore. Perhaps she never did. But when she straightens her back and breathes and keeps her eyes on me, keeps them firm and keeps herself calm, it is then that I find some sort of respect for her. It is then that she and I reach something like an understanding.

But I have to let her know. If only for the sake of keeping Kana's memory alive. "I never wanted to be a good person, I never cared. Not before her. She'd just rouse that in you. And I was so desperate, so desperate to keep that and so desperate to save her that in the end, I...," I shake my head, then, embittered all over again; because being bitter would beat being sad any day.

I remember the liars, the pretenders all putting on their faces. Championing themselves as defenders of the weak, when all they did was cower 'til someone suffered enough.

And where are they now? What are they doing? Where's the justice they had so desperately sought? Nothing changed at all. There's still monsters abusing their power over the weak. There're still victims. There's still a baby in a coffin, her mother in a hospital bed.

"Who cares if Kamoshida's found out? Who cares if people keep getting hurt? They'll forget about it and it won't matter and in the end everything we'll ever do will be meaningless."

"So there's no point, is that what you're saying?" she asks then, and I don't rebut her. "I'm sorry. I can't agree with that."

"There'll always be another Kamoshida," I growl at her. "There'll always be someone else. Someone worse. You can't stop crime, you can't stop bad people. What have we done in recent memory that ever meant anything, made any impact, did anything _right_?"

"That doesn't mean we can't try," she says, facing me now.

"Nobody even wants to be saved!" I persist. "They're all content with keeping their heads down anyway! You're trying to help people who don't want to be helped, or saved, or rescued. People who're willing to endure everything, who are you to determine how they should live?"

"Then was saving Suzui pointless?" she asks me then. "Was trying to save _Kohaku_ pointless?"

"You don't bring her into this," I grunt piteously.

"I didn't," she says then, getting off the bed. "You did."

Gathering her bags, she turns her back on me and leaves. Without even a single look back. Her number sits on the cupboard still, right next to the photograph of Kana and Masako and myself.

"You're right," she continues, her back facing me. "There'll always be another Kamoshida. The world isn't worth much. It's full of awful, corrupt, terrible people who're willing to use good people to serve their own ends. But those good people who suffer need someone. They're not cowards. They're not weaklings. They can be strong. I know it. All they need is that little push."

"I don't believe you," I throat out. "They're liars, the lot of them. How can you have faith in them?"

"It's the world. I can't run from it," she says, shaking her head, and treading down the stairs.

And when she leaves, I don't know why I feel more alone now than I ever did before.

I'd tell you about how Kana's looking at me disappointedly. Or how she's grinning and mocking me with her yellow eyes. But she's not here. I don't see her. I don't feel her. She's nowhere, except in that photograph I stole from her Palace, and in the memories taunting me with what I did to her.

"When it comes to stealing a person's Treasure, the plan is thus: you probe the Palace, form a layout of the place, and decide the best path to get to it." I turn then. And I see a small and furry and black creature, gazing upon me with bright blue eyes.

It continues, "Then, you trigger an emotional reaction in the Palace owner, in the real world; something warning him that what he values most will be stolen right from under his nose. It'll affect the Palace, and will make the Treasure fully manifest into a corporeal form. Lastly, you just dive in the Palace itself...and steal the Treasure."

I glare at it, too weak to try anything.

"When someone overcomes their own Shadow, they obtain a Persona. If a human and a Shadow met face-to-face, the Shadow would normally attack them without question. Even someone's own personal Shadow would attack their host without sentiment or fear of the consequences. But a Shadow born of a distortion great enough to spawn a Palace? They're different. There is another way for us to both get what we want," it says then, confident in itself. "I have a proposal. If you're willing to listen, that is."

* * *

 **\- SECTION XI -  
"...there was a really funny joke I once heard."  
**

* * *

Niijima and Sakamoto and Takamaki may end up trying to raid his Palace again in the near future. But not today. Not so soon after the failure that was yesterday. I have to hope that's the case. Otherwise the plan will fail.

Suguru Kamoshida is in the faculty office right now. As he usually is. It's a slow day, he's decided to call off practice. Which is perfect. If I had to confront him in the middle of the gym, surrounded by all his students, I'd end up too broken to even think about venturing into his Palace.

This is the perfect time. If I delay it any more, then I won't be able to live with myself. Thinking back on it, it seems so obvious a plan that I'm surprised I didn't think of it sooner. But the lynchpin that ties it all together is the answer to a single question:

What makes a king?

The size of his castle? The number of concubines he has? The lands he's conquered? To Kamoshida, that means nothing. Kamoshida's pride is such that he considers himself a king, regardless of those things. He cares not for the size of his castle. He cares not for the number of women he's taken hold of, nor how many lands he's conquered.

So what does he care for?

I open the door. He's alone. Thank goodness. Makes things all the easier. Perhaps there is a God watching over me.

"King Suguru Kamoshida!" I cry out.

Kamoshida just eyes me carefully, and with more than a little contempt.

"Prithee, I ask thee simply for an audience! I know that mercy is far beyond my reach, that I am undeserving to ask thee for thine forgiveness; I am a weak knave, worth not even the chaff separated from the wheat during harvest."

Kamoshida just shakes his head, "What, are you trying to flatter me, kid?"

"I'm not attempting to flatter you, good King; I'm trying merely to get your attention. I have a request, a dying sort of thing, if you will; one that I hope you will grant before our untimely demise."

"Demise...what is this, some sorta prank?" he grunts, getting up off his seat. "What are you trying to prove...?"

"It is not a question of what I deserve, good King. It is a question of your own capabilities, as the king of this castle."

Kamoshida glares at me. My hand is shaking. Kana's watching me. Both of them. If I fail this, we're dead. If I succeed, we live; but even that's not that big of a guarantee. All I can do is hope. The key to Kamoshida is his ego. In the real world, he's not upset over our accusations; he's not upset over what we've accused him of doing. He's upset over the fact we've accused him of something. That look in his eyes; when he's confronted with his failures, he's enraged because he can't fail. He's Kamoshida.

He's a king. He's the king. Now, what makes a king?

"We tore through your castle. We killed your knights. We destroyed your property, and we disrespected and insulted you. We do not deserve salvation. We deserve to be executed. Indeed, this is true. Our heads, lopped off our bodies; our bodies, flayed and quartered and stuffed, ultimately left as display pieces for others who would dare to try and trespass upon your domain. Surely, as the king of this castle, it would be mad of you to let us live. What I propose is not so much a plea for our salvation; rather, a trial. A trial, by combat."

At that, Kamoshida's ears perk up as he looks more offended and disgraced than ever before.

"Are you making a fool out of me?" Kamoshida throats out, clearly unenthused by my grandiose gestures. "Cut this nonsense. I know you're just trying to get under my skin."

"So you don't even have the decency to execute me yourself?" I ask him. "You run this castle, you run an army, but when the guts and the grime are involved you stand back and let the higher-ups take care of it all?"

"You don't talk to me like that—"

"I dare only speak the truth. All you've done is run away from your cruelty, ignore your victims; you can't face them head-on. You can't face anything you've done head-on—"

"What do you know?" he grunts, smirking at me, folding his arms. "You're scum. Like the rest of them."

"We're scum, but we're not even afraid of you! What kinda king are you, when even his lowest opposition isn't even afraid of you!?"

"What, you think I need to _impress_ you?"

"I think you need to impress everybody, but nobody's impressed because in the end you used to be something and now you're nothing. Even after everything you endured and sacrificed you became what? A _school teacher_!?"

"I don't need to impress anyone," Kamoshida grunts out, through gritted teeth. "Least of all, little ingrates like you."

I need to get under his skin. I need to make him hurt. I need to make him get close to me. If I try to get my own hands on him, he might suplex me or throw me aside; make him come to me. Make him want to grab me by my neck, and choke the life out of me.

"What about that _girl_?" I smirk.

He's dismissive, of course. He's had many girls, I'll have to be more specific. "You're still on Suzui...?"

"No. I'm talking about that girl in the alleyway." He freezes for a moment. But just a moment. He goes back to his table, focuses on what's on the screen of his laptop. He doesn't say a word. So I continue, "You know. You're in a bar. You're with some friends, and you're having a good time. Cooling, chilling, relaxing. Drinking wine and settling yourselves in."

He keeps typing. Trying not to listen. I see a drop of sweat bead down the side of his head. So I keep talking.

"There's a girl who looks like she's sixteen, and I know you saw it through the makeup. You find her attractive, so you talk and you want to impress her. You want to get to know her, because she's cute. Before you know it she's crying. Her clothes are torn off, she's holding herself and you're just standing over her—"

He slams the laptop shut. Keep talking.

"You're standing over her with your friends. When you leave her there, and I know you've left her there, you feel guilty, of course—"

He walks over to me, standing over me. His eyes are cold. White. Bleak. Nothing but God can save me now from his wrath. Keep talking.

"But you stop feeling guilty. You stop because you're a champion. You have to stop feeling guilty, because you can't confess what you did. So it becomes normal."

He slowly grips the scruff of my neck. Pulls me up close. Close enough I can smell the fish oil in his breath, I can see the veins in his eyes. His is an expression that would make lions cower. But not me.

I smile, "Oh wait. I know, that can't have been you. You're gentle."

He can't contain himself then.

I immediately start to suffocate the moment his hands squeeze. He's lifted me up above the ground, so much so that when I kick with my legs, the feet don't even reach the floor. I make my noises as I try to breathe, I grip his arms with one hand and my pocket with the other. When I get my phone out, he just lets his left hand go and tosses my phone aside. To the door.

"Planning to record this?" he laughs, putting his left hand back on my neck. "I don't think so."

Something's in his eyes. He's snapped. How fragile must his ego be if it takes this much to send him over the edge? He's laughing now, but it sounds more like wheezing. There's no rationality in his voice, no humanity in his eyes. Something tells me I've seen this out of him before, and I have; when his nose is in a young girl's hair, when his mouth is on her belly, when she's crying and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I'm not wrong," he says. "They should've all been glad. All of them. I'm more than they'll ever be. None of them—it's not my fault," he says, sounding like he's almost about to cry. "It's not my fault. You see them, don't you? Them, and their simpering whining stares—they _look_ at me all the time—!"

The grip tightens as the pain keeps hitting my neck, I feel something on the nape get strained. At this rate, he may break my neck. I might actually die here, and it'd give another reason for Niijima to invade his Palace—

"They keep telling me to _do_ things, and I can't keep up! I can never keep up! Who's to say I'm _wrong_ for doing what I want, _huh_!? _Who are you to say I'm wrong for doing what I want_!?"

What Kamoshida doesn't know is that I don't even have to use the phone for the plan to work. He then lets me go. Lets me fall to the ground. He lets me cough and spit bile and as I nearly vomit all over his shoes, I grip his pant leg. To which he shakes my arm off and kicks my stomach. Right in the middle of the office.

"I'm more than you all. I don't have to impress any of you. I don't know where you got these allegations, but if you ever choose to let them loose, I'll find you and your family and have you all thrown into prison for libel. You see, you still have no proof. You still have nothing at all. I already told you, you waste of air," he says, gripping my hair and squatting so as to face me directly. And his smile is a devil's smile. His smile is a hungry, greedy, prideful smile; one of satisfaction and arrogance in his own security. "I'm still up there, while you're still at the bottom of the world. You can do nothing, because you are nothing."

"Tell me something I don't know," I smirk, my voice slurred. "Can't even get women your own age, so you go after the ones who can't fight back."

And he grins and smirks and laughs, forcing my head _down_ against the marble tiles of the floor, "Who was that girl you saved? _Kohaku_ , right?" My eyes widen as he laughs some more. "I have nothing to be afraid of, from you. You killed someone in self-defense, and the whole school knows it. Only reason they tolerate it is because the big thing about Shujin is how it talks about _reforming_ people. But I have nothing to fear from you. You killed a politician. And you were lucky, the guy was super drunk. But me? The only thing you'd be able to do, if I were in Shido's place...you'd just be _watching_. Helpless. Weak. Because in the end, that's—"

I don't know what happens immediately after that.

But when I can see again, I hear Kamoshida screaming. I wonder why he's screaming, and I discover that I have my thumbs in his eyes—but the cat's already at the door. Kamoshida's still screaming. The cat is telling me to stop, that it's tapping at the app already and that hurting him will be pointless. But I want to keep hurting him. I want to drive them further in. I never want it to stop. I never want to stop.

Perhaps I'll never let it stop. Even when everything here ends. Maybe I need this.

Maybe Niijima was right, after all.

* * *

Suguru Kamoshida is cold. His head hurts, his body hurts. It's an alien sensation burning through his brain; like a perpetual motion sickness overlapping with vertigo. For a moment he thinks he's dreaming, and he sees unbelievable shapes in his closed eyes. Like centipedes, like dragons, like gigantic mushrooms with tentacles spiralling under their caps.

When Suguru Kamoshida opens his eyes, there's something blasting through his head. Like a nail driven into his skull. The vertigo fades, as does the motion sickness, as do the visions; but now he sees something else.

"My _head_...," he whines, struggling to get to his feet. When he gets a glimpse of where he is, he's initially curious and assumes it to be all just some extremely vivid dream. As anyone else would. But he feels the gravel underneath him. He smells the air, tastes it. Hears the screams coming from within.

At first he smirks and chuckles. Because this is a dream, it has to be a dream. What else could explain all this? But then the dawning realization hits him; this is all too real. A dream isn't this vivid, not always. He feels the stone underneath him. The world washes over him, feels like it breathes and is alive. He doesn't know any other way to explain it, though.

There is a castle right in front of him. Towering over him. He's but a flea, compared to it. The sight of it strikes him; it repulses him, frightens him, unsettles him. But another, larger part of him feels that the castle is something essential. Like it fills something in the soul. It answers something in him.

He feels cold again. He's grasping his shoulders because he feels his heart palpitating. He doesn't know why it's palpitating. His back's sweating so much a large patch of his shirt's soaked already. He wants to stay, but he wants to leave. He wants to enter the palace, yet he wants to tear it down. It feels like a parody of everything he's ever wanted.

He asks for a moment what he's doing here, I can see him try to connect the dots in his head. He remembers, of course. Remembers the gym and remembers me. I told him something reprehensible, something he could not and cannot forget. Or ignore. So when he remembers everything, he turns around.

The first thing he's met with is a boot to the face.

" _AGH_!"

He holds his nose, as the red leaks from his nostrils, and the cracks form in the bone. He sees a shape, a dark looming shape that towers over him; one that almost seems as large as the castle, if not larger. He hears a _clink_ ing noise, and his eyes dart over to see that a red hand is carrying rusty set of iron chains.

"Wh-who are you...!?" he cries out helplessly. "S-someone, help me!"

My robes are silly, to be frank. I'm gaudy, campy, unfashionable. But to him, down in the dirt, his vision obscured by his fear of the unknown, he sees me as something to be feared. He's no longer a king. That look in his eyes; if you would ever see that look from a person as horrible as he, the catharsis would be unforgettable.

I smile at him, once he gets a good look at my face.

"K-Kanzaki...," he mutters.

"Down there...in the dirt...," I grin at him, toothily. "You don't look so tall anymore."

And I kick him low in the stomach. An excited jolt runs through my leg as I hear the _GAAKK_ noise come from his mouth, and when his upper body keels over I move behind him. I let the chain out of my hands and it loops under his jaw, forming a loop around his neck. And it is _pulled_.

He's thrashing madly, screaming and shivering. When the drool comes from his mouth, he can't stop himself from going wild. Even though he's scratching his neck against the rust of the chains. It's animal instinct; when a helpless creature is trapped, it flounders about, trying to escape in any way it can.

He tries to get himself out of my grip, and he really should be able to. He's a gym teacher, an Olympian. How can he not break through the grip of some high school student? When he purples, he sees that I'm not the one holding the chain after all. He sees a tall creature, something ethereal, something legendary. In tales past, it was a demon that a certain individual had sold his soul to in exchange for mystical powers. Now, it is a creature borne of my own psyche.

It is my Persona. And it laughs at him like I do, as the drool in his mouth turns to blood.

He kicks his feet, grinds his heels against the gravel in horror. I move to the front of him and he watches me. I see the veins in his neck swell, I see his eyes bulge, I see the folds in his face as he makes his desperate expressions. He tries to talk, but every time he opens his mouth, ragged gasps are the only sounds he makes. Otherwise he coughs as a cancer patient in their final days would.

It's when I open the knife to scare him that he actually looks _angry_ for once.

He pushes himself forward, the chain continuing to grind against the skin of his neck. He makes such horrible noises, and I can swear I see a few pieces of teeth fly out as he clenches his jaws together in his attempts to get to me. He tries grabbing at me with his large arms, but he's utterly helpless. I'm in front of him, but I'm a good distance away. Even now, I think he's trying to salvage his ego. Out of everything in this place, he focuses on me?

He stops struggling, of course, when his eyes roll into his head and his arms droop downward. He's already taxed himself enough; trying to get to me just finished off what little fighting spirit he had left.

"Did you really have to be so brutal?" the cat asks me.

"No," I respond. "I didn't."

"I thought you didn't like killing people," it says.

Once Mephistopheles lets Kamoshida down, undoes the chains, I walk over to his body. Feel his pulse. "He's not dead. Didn't strangle him for that long."

"You could've just bonked him on the head or something..."

I smile, deciding to admit it for once, "You're right. I could have. Now," I turn to Mephistopheles, "make sure you tie him down well. We don't have all day." I turn to the cat then, "You ready?"

It nods simply, "As I'll ever be."

* * *

The monsters inside the Palace can't attack me or my Persona in any fashion, which is why they don't. Any time they'd take lunging at me is enough time for Mephistopheles to just crush Kamoshida's head like a melon.

And then a calm settles in, once Mephistopheles finishes with the chains and looms over the proceedings.

There's a moment that everyone experiences in their lives. It's something that happens when they're about to do something wrong, and they know it. But they justify themselves, and the justification doesn't stick. Though they know their actions are definitely wrong, they go for it anyway, because they just don't care anymore.

My moment comes when I think about the situation at hand. As in, really think. What I'm planning to do with Suguru Kamoshida will utterly destroy him. It has a chance of getting him killed. It is a low chance, but it is a chance nonetheless.

Everything I do, I do for myself. It's selfish, of course; but it's what it is. I'm a hypocrite, the worst of the worst. I do not deserve to look down upon others for the horrible things they do, when I've done horrible things myself without much regret.

I'm a hypocrite. But I still have standards. So I've been more than a little brutal. In fact you can argue that in doing what I'm doing, I'm resorting to outright torture, both psychological and physical. You can even say that stealing his heart would in fact be the less dangerous option.

I'm being needlessly cruel. I'm doing exactly what I warned Niijima and Sakamoto against. I'm destroying him, bit by bit, and I'm doing it in such a way that it completely destroys my integrity. I'm not a good person. I don't think I'll ever be. Maybe I'm okay with that.

"What...?"

When Kamoshida awakens, I stop justifying myself. "Good to see you're awake. Again."

"Wh...what...!? Why am I...!?"

We're still standing outside the castle gates. I knew Mephistopheles hadn't gotten to him too hard; Kamoshida woke up a mere five minutes after his strangulation. The man tries to move, but he can't. And he realizes why.

He's chained to the hood of a catbus. Chained rather tightly. Though he tries to move, his nerves are taxed enough and his tendons are stretched enough such that the simple act of bending a finger will send blasts of pain throughout random parts of his body.

"You're getting this off of me once we get out of here," catbus says.

"Of course," I reply. "I'll put it back in the alleyway, don't worry."

"Wh-what is this...!?" Kamoshida cries. "What have you done to me!?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I shrug.

"Why are you doing this, _where am I_!?" he cries out again.

"Your in your own mind," I say to him, squatting so as to level our eyes. "You're in Shujin. Or, what you think Shujin is. _King Suguru_."

He recoils once he hears that name, and then he looks like he wants to bite my face off. "Get me out of these chains right now!"

"Why should I?" I ask, smugly raising one of my brows. "Not like you can do anything to me, stuck like that."

"Let me _go_ or I'll—!"

"You'll—" I kick him in his groin and he screams a beautiful scream, "— _what_? You'll threaten me? You gonna say something like _I'll never forgive you_? What, will you _not forgive me to death_!?" I take out the knife in my front pocket, and I put the blade right up to his eye, "You want me to take it out?"

"Wh-what...!?" Kamoshida squeals.

"Wait, stop!" the catbus cries, but I ignore both of them.

"Which eye, right or left? I'm not picky, I'll take whatever!" I laugh, sticking the blade into his eyesocket, right on the skin, not too deep but just enough to make the blade nudge against the eyeball—

"Wait, wait _wait wait stop_ —!"

"Hold on a minute," exclaims the catbus, "would you calm down for a second here!? We can't _kill_ the guy, not like—!"

"What about your ear?" I take out the knife and I put it against his earlobe. "Would it be easier if I cut off your ear? Maybe jab the knife right into the eardrum? It's survivable! Recoverable! It'll hurt a lot, but I'm sure it'll heal! You're a _big strong boy,_ aren't you!?"

"P-please...," he whimpers then, feeling the cold of the blade in his ear, "W-wait! You can't do this! This is _torture_! You can't do this to me...!"

"I can't hear you!" I laugh. "Right now, I'm up there," I say, pointing to the sky. "And you're down _here_ ," pointing to the ground. "You're too far away. I just can't hear you. I'm so sorry."

He stays silent for a long while, letting me laugh on and on and on. It's when I've laughed for too long that he begs, "Please, I'll, I'll do anything, just _please_ let me go...I have a family, I...!"

I clamp his mouth shut with my gloved hand. I lean in and glare directly into his eyes.

"So did I," I seethe. Practically spitting into his face. "Which reminds me...there was a really funny joke I once heard."

I let go of him then. And I get into the driver's seat of the car. I turn on the ignition. Easy enough. Car's an automatic. Does me good. I honk the horn. And the gates of the castle open.

Kamoshida's mouth is agape as the doors open wide and we're met with something astounding. The hall is filled with guards. Soldiers, knights; Shadows all in servitude to the cognitive Kamoshida who runs the whole joint. And above them all, I see the red-winged knight floating effervescently in the air.

"Just stick to the plan," catbus says to me. "He's no good to us dead..."

"A guy goes into the hospital," I say to Kamoshida, deciding to tell him the joke as Mephistopheles fades away and I drive right into the castle. "His wife's just had a baby and he can't wait to see them both. So he meets the doctor and he says, _Oh, Doc, I've been so worried. How are they?"_

I go into the great hall, and all the knights are impassive. They see me. They want to end me. They want to tear me apart. But I've presented them with something they cannot touch. Someone they're familiar with.

I continue with the joke, "The doctor smiles and says, _They're fine. Just fine. Your wife's delivered a healthy baby girl and they're both in tip-top form. You're one lucky guy_. So the guy rushes into the maternity ward with his flowers."

I stop the car in the middle of the room. They're all still just _watching_ me. Drawn to Kamoshida's distortion, they can do nothing and they know it.

"But it's empty. His wife's bed is empty. _Doc?_ he says, and he turns around and the doctor and all the nurses wave their arms and scream in his face..." I grab a pistol from underneath my jacket, and I aim it at the real Kamoshida's head. " _April Fool's! The baby's dead, and your wife's a spastic!_ "

The knights all bring their weapons up, but the red knight up above all brings his arm out to his side, silently declaring that they _halt at once_.

I have their attention. Everything is going according to plan. I smirk at the knight, I smirk at all of them. And for once do I feel something like peace. The air is clear. Everything makes sense, for the first time. This feels like the most important moment in my life.

"Bring your king here," I declare, "or else I splatter the real Kamoshida's brains all over the castle walls."

* * *

 ** _author's notes:_**

* * *

 _ **To astute comic book readers, you'll know where the joke came from :3 and what I changed up to better fit the story. :D**_

 _ **The final section is drawing upon us! It'll probably be the next one. If not, then the one after. But one thing's for sure, everything's coming to an end for Kamoshida! Hope you guys stick around for the next chaos-filled chap. It's about to get pretty rough from here on out.**_

 _ **EDIT 5/25/18:  
Added some extra bits in, to help things form around each other a little better.**_


	24. Chapter I END

**Chapter One: Queen and Jester, Bound by Fate**

* * *

Meanwhile, outside Shujin Academy, three people stand in an alleyway, huddled around a phone.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Sakamoto asks.

"Yes," Niijima replies. "Even without Morgana or Kanzaki."

"It'll be dangerous," Takamaki says. "We have no guide. We'll be out there all by ourselves."

"We'll be as stealthy as possible. Find other routes in. Try to actually sneak inside instead of barging through the front door. I think that'll be our best approach, at least for now. Since we can't find Kanzaki or Morgana at the moment, we'll have to do all we can. Sakamoto and I'll be getting expelled in a matter of weeks," she sighs, remembering her sister before turning to Takamaki. "And I doubt you can let Kamoshida go unpunished for any longer, can you?"

Takamaki grins a little as she shakes her head, "Gotta point there."

"So. We're gonna do this, then?" Sakamoto asks. "Morgana and Kanzaki have the most experience out of all of us. I dunno if this is the best idea."

"It'll just be a scouting mission," says Niijima. "We're supposed to layout the place first, aren't we? I'm not gonna have us steal the Treasure _today_ , I just want us to be able to get a good grasp of how the place operates."

"You sure that's all you want?" asks Sakamoto, looking at her with one of his brows raised.

And she closes her eyes, leaning against the wall, "No. That's not all. I just...," she recalls Suzui. She recalls Kanzaki. She recalls what he said to her just yesterday, about the worthlessness of her justice, and the pointlessness of saving people.

 _They're liars, the lot of them. How can you have faith in them?_

Niijima comes clean then, "I don't want everything we've done so far to be for nothing. I want to finish this and I want to put a stop to Kamoshida as soon as we can manage. I won't hold it against either of you if you think it's too dangerous."

There's a moment where nobody talks, or moves. Because in the end, Niijima's said what's on everyone else's mind: it's dangerous, yes; risky, yes; but in the end, it might yield results and it might help put Kamoshida out of commission sooner.

And in the end, they think they'll be okay with that. Even through all the horror they saw yesterday. The gaping maws. The blood. The terror. They'll have to face it sooner or later, and better to face it now.

" _Guys_!"

Then they all whirl around. They see the cat. Bleeding from the mouth, bleeding from _everywhere,_ really.

"M-Morgana...!" cries Makoto, kneeling down to meet its eyes. "What happened to you...!?"

"N-no time!" it exclaims, cringing from the pain, "You guys've gotta come with me! Akira's in trouble!"

And Makoto freezes right then and there, imagining just what I could've done this time.

* * *

 **\- FINAL SECTION -  
"This is how it has to be."**

* * *

I'm in a bed. And everything on me hurts.

It's hard for me to see, even though I know my eyes are wide open. I can feel nothing below my neck, and the only thing I hear is a droning noise comparable to static. The act of blinking is enough to shoot sparks into my head. I see dark shapes looming over me, someone crying out; I can vaguely make out a little of what they're saying. _Help_?

The world keeps on spiralling out, fading and solidifying and not knowing what to do with itself. Noises grow louder and then quiet down again. I keep remembering gunfire. Strands of smoke in the air, concrete being kicked up; I hear screaming, but I don't know whose voice it is. There's a biting sensation on the nape of my neck, and then I feel my fingers twitch and my chest rise and lower.

I can feel my insides shiver, my bones strain, my heart banging against my ribcage. There's something grabbing my heart and pulling it down, making it sink into a bottomless well of nothing. I hear someone call out my name over the droning noise, it's a woman's voice. My vision begins to clear soon enough.

Her hair is brown, and her eyes look red in the light of the sunset. A platinum blonde young lady with blue eyes, and a slouched young man with dyed hair stand behind her, looking similarly distressed yet relieved.

I still can't hear her; I can't even talk. I try to say something, but no words come out. I try to make even the tiniest noise, but air just passes through my mouth.

I turn to look at the ceiling, and I try to remember what happened. I try to make myself recall what had put me here. And when the pieces come together, they come slowly. But they come, as they always do. The pain gets to the point where I feel like I have to close my eyes; just to have that little sensation that I'm holding at least some of it back.

And I begin to remember.

* * *

"Wh-what is this...!?" cries out Kamoshida, wriggling around in his entrapments. "I-I won't say anything, I swear to...!" Then he sees my eyes, and freezes, and whimpers, "Please, please don't kill me, I don't want to die!"

"Shiho Suzui didn't want to jump off a building, but you took every other path she had away from her," I smile.

At once he burns with anger, even as the pistol gets pressed further into his forehead, " _I_ _didn't make her jump!_ "

"You might as well have pushed her off yourself," I shake my head. "But that doesn't matter, not anymore."

"You can't _do_ this to me!" he cries out.

And I press the gun further into his head, "I'm stronger than you, so I can do whatever I want. That's how it works. I learned that from you."

"I will make you lose everything. The fame'll go down the drain. The money'll stop coming in. Your parents'll never want to be associated with you; at least one of them will probably kill themselves out of the shame. This will follow you until the day you die, and no one will ever let you forget it."

He looks at his hands. His fingers twitch, his dark eyes glazing over them. His mouth twitches, and he looks like he knows just what to do. "Y-you can't..."

"If you kill yourself, then I'll go after Shozo Kamoshida and Kirie Kamoshida." He looks up at me, recognizing his parents' names. The horror in his eyes is plain as day. "After them, I'll go after your other family members. I'll go after everyone you cherish. I'll bring them to their own worlds, I'll make them see everything they don't want to see about themselves. I'll make them know fear, just as you do."If you decide to take the easy way out, I will burn everything and everyone you love."

Weeks ago, I'd have considered this a reprehensible move. I'd think about Kana, and how she'd be revolted by my sudden change of heart. After going for so long, reiterating the ethical consequences of stealing Treasures to Niijima and Sakamoto again and again. Arrogantly trying to force my own morals down their throats.

It's at this point I think about Makoto Niijima.

I'm certain she'd have me flayed for this. he'd call me a hypocrite, a monster, a torturer; she's not one for wanton cruelty. I can imagine her even taking pity on the poor soul I have chained to the front of a bus. Despite everything he's done, she'd show mercy, for that is the kind of person she is. But I am not Makoto Niijima. She fights for some brand of justice, but in the end I fight merely because I want to. She fights for the weak and the downtrodden, acting like some kind of hero; I'm here because I'm angry, sad, bitter, and have failed too many people.

It's meaningless, like a lot of things are, but in the end I maybe should have been less brusque with her, a few days ago. When she returned me to Leblanc. In the end, she didn't try to impose herself on me, not again. Just let me speak, and hate, and fume; even as I mocked her justice to her face, she remained strong in her conviction.

She's like a queen, really; and I say that without the slightest bit of contempt.

Though the knights are bristled and Kamoshida's absolutely wetting himself, I find this situation all at once bitterly ironic. I kept the gun. The one the Wolf gave me, when I tried saving Kana. I kept it all this time, as a reminder. Yet I never sought to look at it much until now.

It feels real, for one thing. My finger's at the trigger, and I can't help but let all the memories flood back. I think I'm pointing the gun to the head of whoever the Wolf is, and at once I have to keep myself from pulling the trigger and letting the blood fly.

But then I hear steps. I see a billowing cape flowing as its wearer treads down the stairs. I see topaz eyes blazing with anger. I see knights kneeling, the real Kamoshida's wide-eyed and slack-jawed expression, and endless possibilities.

He stares at the ground for the longest time. When he sobs he's inconsolable. I can hear him through the noises he makes, asking forgiveness from his parents, from all his victims. He says names I've never heard before, and in the end he starts praying. He starts begging for God to show him mercy, hoping He's listening.

Kana still doesn't appear, and I don't blame her.

 _ **"What do you want?"**_ he asks through gritted teeth, and I smile. _Schadenfreude_ 's an amazing feeling. " _ **What are your terms?"**_

"Every day I wake up. Every morning it hits me. My girlfriend is in a coma, and her daughter is dead. I wonder why I feel so hollow, and I remember. I'm going to make you remember everything you did. Every morning, every night." I smile, "Give me your Treasure, or else your true self dies."

The only thing stopping Kamoshida's Shadow from having one of his soldiers fire a crossbow bolt into my head is my trigger finger. He knows that by making any move against me, he puts himself and his whole castle at risk. I've killed someone before. I can kill again. And if I do kill Kamoshida, I'll most likely be leaving his corpse trapped in the limbo that is the Metaverse; there'll be no body, no evidence, nothing. I'll get off scot-free for my crime, the Palace will disappear, and everything Kamoshida's built for himself will be thrown to the winds.

But I don't expect what he says next.

 ** _"You won't shoot him."_** And my hand trembles for a moment. But I keep myself still enough and keep my eyes on him. **_"Everything you've done here...you're putting on airs. Trying too hard. Making yourself more than what you really are, and for what? To scare me?"_**

I keep my eyes on him. He'll just rebut me if I say anything, twist my words. Can't let him get the upper hand. But that might not be my choice anymore.

 ** _"Psycho rep only gets you so far. You've come in here, trying to take refuge in your own audacity. Making such a big commotion, shoving a gun in_ his _face right in front of me, and for what? You're trying to scare me, trying to strike at my fear. You'd only do that, if you've nothing."_**

"You think I won't do it?" I snarl at him.

 ** _"Then do it. Shoot him. Right in his head."_**

"You don't think I'll really do it!?" I scream, infuriated with him. "I've killed someone before, I'll kill again! You're just scared, trying to salvage whatever you can—"

 ** _"Of course I'm scared! Of course, I wouldn't want any of this to go away. But you can shoot him, and you can end this here and now. Are you really holding it off because you want the Treasure? Or is it because you know deep down you can't find it in yourself to do it again?"_**

"You're stalling, buying time—"

He just shakes his head, ** _"You came to me the other day. You wanted me to stop, said you were willing to come all this way just to convince me that what I was doing was wrong. And here you are now, flamboyantly bringing my host here? I don't buy it."_**

"You think I care what happens to you, after what your _host_ pulled? After all the people he's hurt!?"

 ** _"You could have killed me at any point. If you hated me that much you'd want to kill me, then why not just have me killed right now? Right here? You could have even killed me outside the castle; you didn't even have to tie him up with chains. Are you really gonna shoot me if I just say_ NO _!? What's the point of trying to take my Treasure, even!?_ So you can still feel good about yourself _!?"_**

While we were plotting before any of this, the cat told me of how things could go wrong. Kamoshida's Shadow _could_ indeed hand us the crown, out of sheer fear for himself and his castle. But then again, what would a rattlesnake do when it's cornered? The cat asked me if I was willing to take that risk, and I said yes because I was just that desperate to do something that mattered.

I keep forgetting to be careful what I wish for.

Suguru Kamoshida's refusal to accept any of his sins as his own manifests into violence. It's obvious his Shadow wouldn't just let his ego unravel so easily. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, he'll deny himself if it allows him to continue feeling like he has the world in the palm of his hands.

I remember hearing someone scream. Shadow Kamoshida's arms ballooning as his eyes begin to bulge out of his skull. I can't even pull the trigger before he whips an arm that's grown ten times its size at us, and I and the catbus and Niijima and the two others are sent up into the air.

The real Kamoshida is _still_ chained to the hood.

When I pry myself off the ground, I see the real Kamoshida, weighed down by his chains and unconscious. The catbus is just a cat again, and it's struggling to just stand; I hear it mewl and groan in its pain, as I turn to the light hitting my peripheral vision.

Kamoshida's pride is such that he considers himself a king, regardless of the size of his castle, the number of concubines he has, or the lands he's conquered. What makes a king, is the love his people have for him. But it's not so much love, for Kamoshida, as much as it is adoration. Idolization. Desire, want.

All of that gets taken away, he becomes nothing. It is thanks to the people that he tells himself he is a king. It is thanks to the people that he has something to treasure, something to keep hold of for himself. It is the treasure, given unto him by his loyal subjects, that makes him a king. The Treasure would be a symbol of his kingliness, his power, his authority. Something that stands above all other things.

I see the Treasure sitting atop his now gargantuan head. Spawning over him, in his rage. Because he's Kamoshida. He has to flaunt himself at every opportunity, make those opposing him feel as small as possible. It'll be his undoing.

The crown is golden, and its size is that of half a man. Ornamented with pearls and diamonds and rubies innumerable, a globe surmounted by a cross rests at the top. The moment my eyes meet it visions flash in my head of nude women, held down and tortured, their bodies strained and their wills thinned; it's when the women begin to look like Kana that I grit my teeth and get up off the ground.

His eyes are each as large as a small car, orange vortexes spiralling endlessly where his sclerae are supposed to be. His smile reaches from ear to ear and I see that he's gotten three rows of teeth, each tooth gnarled and serrated like that of a shark. His skin's become a feverish pink color, and he's grown the horns of a ram atop his head. He's got four arms, each as long as a bus and with callused fingers, and in each of his hands is a knife that's a person's height. He's completely nude as well, and where his genitals should be all I see is the color red; the warts and the lesions there simply overflow with blood, pus, or both, and pulsate as though there's more inside that wants to escape. Though he's muscular, I see that his stomach is strangely diminutive, giving the impression that his chest simply transitions into his waist. His long hair grows even longer, flowing out underneath his glowing crown.

He's become so massive that I merely measure up to his belly button by comparison. Throughout this time I hear a name burn in my mind, another demon, surely; _Asmodeus, Asmodeus, Asmodeus._

 _ **"I am a Shadow, the true self,"**_ he roars, proud and reckless. _**"**_ ** _You come here into my castle, with my host, and demand I bend knee to spineless demands? You bring up my sins to my face, to goad me into coming at you and destroying everything I've built? You threaten my parents, my family!? You deserve a fate worse than death! You want my Treasure, you pry it from my corpse!"_**

Of course he's frenzied. He's sick of me and my arrogance, but I can imagine that he's more sick of himself, and how he as of yet has been unable to kill me or the others who've invaded the Palace. Have to think fast. The knights are transforming as well.

Some grow horns. Others grow twice their size. Others still produce teeth from their chests, and begin to transform into even more eldritch creations. At this rate, before Asmodeus can get his decayed hands on me, I'll already have been killed and raped and eaten. I need something to fight with. The knife won't do against a thousand monsters, and I doubt my Persona would be overwhelmed by these kinds of numbers. I need to be able to defend myself and at the same time cleave through the world with little issue.

I've come all this way, and I've broken so many promises. I'm not keen on leaving this place without having accomplished something.

As I'm wont to do, I think of doing something incredibly drastic in a heated moment, and I actually decide to try pulling it off at least partially out of desperation.

"Cat," I mutter, and it hears me through Kamoshida's roars. "Plan B."

"Wh...what...?" it wheezes out, and I turn to see it. It looks all around us and sees the eldritch creatures screaming as their bodies turn into un-life. "Wait, I-I can't just let you do this alone—!"

"Hurry or all of this will have been for nothing," I say, keeping my back to it as the monsters all over the room rear themselves up and try to make a feast out of me. "You wanna be human, right? This is what it means. To give everything you have to make your desires a reality _._ "

The cat just pauses itself, furrows its eyes, nods swiftly, and makes a run for the exit. Not looking back, all it tells me is, "Don't you die on me 'till I get back!"

The Shadows roar as they try to reach for the cat and do unspeakable things to it, but then I say "Mephistopheles," and draw their attention back to what _I_ plan to do.

Asmodeus lunges at me, his four arms reaching out to grab me and make my limbs fold in themselves. Mephistopheles carries me out of his arms' range as he lifts me into the air by my right arm. He pulls me forward and I let my left hand out, dropping the knife; the Shadows try to grab me with their alien appendages, teeth gnashing and claws brandished, the winged knight tries to blast me with fire but before any of them can even grab me I manage to grab the cross on Kamoshida's crown, his crown that's far too large for its own good—

—and Mephistopheles drops me down.

There's a creature I remember, one that knocked Niijima and Sakamoto and Takamaki and the cat out flat right at the front of the gates, its opening its mouth and rearing its massive green head up as it tries to consume me—

—when I bring the gold down upon its head, black flies into the air as the monster squeals and I land on the ground.

Diamonds and rubies fly as gold begins to chip off the crown. Another Shadow, one with a mouth for a torso and thorns for limbs, is sent flying, ichor flying out of its maw in an arc. Black paints gold.

The crown is as large as half a man. In my hands, it feels like a giant bowl made of gold. And it is heavy; but it's no heavier than a steel chair, or a club, or a baseball bat with nails in it. In my desperation, the best idea i could come up with was that it _might_ make for a sufficiently blunt weapon.

And it's working, unbelievably.

The Shadows are a mass of many things in my head, and none of them can encroach upon me close enough; if I keep attacking, I'll keep breaking the crown over their heads. Luckily, the Treasure suffers minimal amounts of damage. It's almost as indestructible as Kamoshida's self-righteousness.

But it's still dented, it still gets scratches. It can still _break_. And if it does, then they're all dead. Asmodeus, the Shadows, this Palace, it all goes away.

This defense won't last. They all know I'm desperate, and it won't be long until one of them catches me for a loop and I'm dead. I feel it now. My neck burning, my eyes watering, my lungs struggling to breathe through the phlegm in my esophagus. Still sick. Ignored it up till now, and it was easy because of all the adrenaline, but it's getting to the point where ignoring it is no longer an option. And I smile as another Shadow loses several of its teeth, roaring and gurgling in its own blood as what it has closest to a neck makes a snapping noise.

I suppose there are worse ways to go out than this.

Asmodeus roars, commands his men to keep on attacking me. He could crush me like a maggot, but I have his crown and he's too much of a coward to actually try doing something himself. He's frantic now, his eyes practically a scene from Hell all on their own.

It hurts to breathe. Hurts to move. Dodging and weaving's slowly becoming less and less feasible. As I move throughout the great hall, as the black gunk spills out onto my body, as the Shadows' monstrous forms cave in from the weight of the crown, I feel stings.

It starts off fine. Nicks to my back every now and again, from teeth or spikes or what have you. Thorns come, however, and then I'm lucky that I lift the crown to shield my neck at just the right moment. Body's screaming as my throat grows warm and my lungs freeze.

The gold begins to dent and make _cracking_ noises. The diamonds scratch my face upon impact with Shadow meat, the rubies shattering into particles before they can even reach the floor. Amethysts and pearls begin flying and the ridiculous ornaments begin to unravel. Not much more time left.

I don't know why I'm not moving then. Until I see the flaming sword in my ankle, and the winged knight glaring into my eyes. I swing the crown at it but it dodges back; world becomes blurry. Blood loss. Bad time, body. Not now. Leg like a twig, can't move right—

A Shadow with a right arm that looks like a bag full of rocks comes in and hits my face. Before I hit the ground I feel three teeth fly out of my mouth, and two more I have to swallow down my throat. Eye's already blackening. I get up before they can kick me while I'm down and another Shadow's face folds. Fire hits my back, through my coat, and the slash is such that even if I were wearing heavy steel armor I'd have a wound that'd take months to heal. I whip around to see the winged angel again and it lifts the blade up, about to impale me and I remember _Kana_ —

* * *

She's lying in my bed now, desperately lonely, even though I'm right across from her in a chair. She's asking me if I meant it when I said I'd never leave her, and I'm saying yes. I'm reading her journal now, and the very last line she's written in it says that she just wants me to live.

 _I'm coming, I'd say. I'm coming home._

* * *

—unconsciously, I lift the crown at just the right moment and manage to get the knight's helmet off of him. But the sword's hit my side, and though the winged knight recoils it's not wounded in the least while I am, and then when the bag of rocks hits my good leg I'm forced to fall back down, Mephistopheles fading as the pain gets too much for me to concentrate—

* * *

Kana and I are dancing now. I'm wearing a suit, and she's wearing a dress as white as ash. It's a waltz, and I don't even know how to dance, but in the end every step is perfect. She's smiling and laughing, taking the lead as I clumsily try to make the whole situation work.

Then she and I fall in bed together, and I'm happy to the point where you could think I'm delirious. I'm embracing her, and my face is in her neck, and I hear her let out a cry as we tumble and I wish we could stay like this for the rest of eternity.

* * *

—as Mephistopheles fades into shards completely the crown sweeps forward, keeps more Shadows off of me for just a bit. Something hits my right shoulder and soon I'm only able to swing with my left arm, I'm in the air and blood's leaking out of me, and I don't know from which organs but it's leaving a long trail, and when I hit the wall I feel as though I'm coughing up something that's too large to not be important and someone's calling out my name—

—Asmodeus is laughing with his incredibly distorted voice, I feel my bones pop and I feel something in my stomach leak out solid matter, my good eye goes blind as something like a dumbbell mashes my face, killing a good number of nerves and then I see something blue flash by for just a second, I hear footsteps, human voices, screams and roars and fire and ice, something that sounds like a motorcycle revving up—

* * *

I'm reading Masako _The Little Prince_. I'm helping her with her homework, and I'm laughing because she still doesn't understand it even though I've explained it a thousand times. I'm helping her with a little universe she neglected to make because she's lazy, I'm seeing her off to college and telling her to be careful. I'm walking her down the aisle and she's smiling at me, and I'm more than proud, I'm more than happy.

* * *

—Sakamoto screaming, punching out some Shadows with his fists alone. Captain Kidd firing lightning and ramming himself into creatures. Takamaki kicking her heels into one of the Shadows' eyes, spurting out black blood as Carmen causes the world to burn, the cat licking the black off its fur all the while having Zorro cleave through monsters, Niijima running over creatures and I see sparks fly from the wheels of the motorcycle she's riding; the world's a blur and the only thing that makes sense is the fire that's burning through it and her hair flows like the flames, and I see something like a smile form along the edges of her mouth, Asmodeus is trying to get at her but in the end it's useless and she just laughs because she's just so fast—

—there's something bright flashing right in front of me, and I reach my hand out towards it. Though I'm in mostly empty space, everything feels slow, like I'm underwater. The voice is familiar yet distant, and so when I breathe and move towards the light I feel everything begin to hurt again. I see someone with brown hair and red eyes. She's crying, worried for me, calling me endlessly.

Then I see someone, dressed in spandex, a steel mask clamped over her eyes. She's not calling me by my surname.

" _Akira!"_

I see her staring at me. The steel over her eyes, and she's breathing heavily. Almost looks like she's about to cry. The Shadows that had surrounded me were stains against the wall, or writhing on the floor, or missing limbs.

I didn't want her to be a part of this. I really didn't. But I knew that the original plan had half a chance to fail, and I was sick of losing at everything. That's why she and the others were Plan B.

I smile at her, despite several gaps in my teeth, and I tap the massive crown as I say, "Got it," and cough out fountains of blood.

She nods and is horrified at the same time, and barks out to her allies, "We have to go _now_!"

She pulls me up as I see faint lines of Sakamoto and Takamaki running—before I can even comprehend it, I'm in the back of the catbus, leaning against the back 's driving, of course. The crown's on top of the bus, perched on the headlights like some exorbitant yet battered decoration. Sakamoto's in the passenger's seat, and Takamaki's on the other end of the backseat.

Between me and her is Kamoshida. Sleeping like a baby.

 _ **"NOOOOOO!"**_

Asmodeus lunges for us, drooling black out of his mouth, delirious and mad and desperate, like me—the madness in his eyes is familiar and his tongue laps up as he tries to reach us with his arms, but before he can even catch up we're already out the door—

—but when we get out the door the winged knight comes, with his flaming blade and he tries attacking, he's bleeding out black and his armor's all busted up but still he's lunging, he's flying over Asmodeus and soon he's right on top of us and at this rate he'll stick us all on his flaming blade, and I push the door open while we're still moving and I scream _"MEPHISTOPHELES!"_ and the sudden summoning's enough to almost make the car crash—

We're close _so close_ to getting out, but Mephistopheles stabs the knight right in his heart. Plunging the knife deeper in, he's forced to push the knight forward—the knight has his flaming blade in Mephistopheles' chest but my Persona keeps on pushing forward, and eventually he pushes far enough.

Asmodeus screams, because Mephistopheles and the winged knight are burrowing into one of his eyes. We see all manner of fluids burst, pop like a balloon; Asmodeus reels back and thrashes about on the ground, maddeningly afraid and screaming about how he'll have our heads, how he'll end our lives, how we're monsters, how we all deserve to be flayed and raped and tortured till we're seventy.

But none of us can hear him, and we drive on till we're out of the nightmare.

Once we get out of the Palace, they notice that I'm wounded and bleeding all over myself. I don't even get to see the others before I find I've fallen face-first into the ground. Hard to see. Hard to breathe. Hard to feel anything. I'm shaking, trembling, each breath a moment of agony.

But I did it. I did it, Kana. I did it.

Should I feel sorry?

Niijima's scrambling to me as the cat pounces over my body. I don't even feel it healing my wounds. I can't think of anything. Everything's just blank and numb. Niijima starts talking, says something about a hospital, so I grunt out, " _No_ ," and she stops being so frantic. "No hospital."

She's of course raving, she tells me I _need_ to go there, that we can't just hope all my wounds'll be healed, that we have to get me someplace I know I'll be okay. The cat's telling her plainly that she's overreacting, that my wounds will be healed, that all I'll need is the rest.

"I want to go home," I say numbly. "Please take me home..."

My voice is no louder than a whisper, and as the cat continues healing me everyone stops talking. I start murmuring now, even though I'm half-asleep, and all I say is "Please take me home," over and over again. I think I'm crying. I think I feel tears flowing down my eyes, but I don't know why they're coming down. Why I feel this pain in my chest.

I did it. Kana. I did it. Why doesn't it feel good? Why can't I feel good? Why aren't you here? Why are you only ever in my dreams? Will I see you again?

"Please. Take me home..."

I know I did something terrible. I know I've crossed the line again. Tell me that you're still here. Tell me you're not gone yet. Tell me where you are.

I struggle to get to my feet and Niijima and the rest of them protest, tell me that I'm still wounded, that I need to stop moving, but I keep on trying to force myself to get up. Wounds aren't bleeding anymore. Have I been healed? Or am I just in so much pain my nerves have numbed everything?

I reach out to something that looks like her, in the blur of the world. Can't die here. Mustn't die here. It's not over. It'll never be over. Kana. I'm coming home. It doesn't hurt. I don't feel anything leaking out of me. Maybe I'm okay. Why is my body screaming at me to just lie down and die? Kana. Where are you? Where have you gone? Are you hiding from me?

Do I scare you, even until now? Are you looking at me with the eyes you gave, when I killed Shido? I just need to get home. I shrug off the others' arms, their pleas hitting my ears. I'm crying now, because everything hurts yet doesn't and I miss her so much I want her with me again and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I love you so much. Life without you has no meaning, please come back to me.

Sooner or later they get me down to my knees and the cat continues healing me. Blood on my clothes. Sooner or later I'm in a taxi. I'm with them, with the others, and I'm mumbling, over and over again, "Take me home, take me home," without any form of control over my tongue.

"Take me home."

Once I stop hearing, and seeing, and feeling, and knowing, suddenly Kana and I are in Destiny Land. She and I are chewing on cotton candy, and somehow she's gotten some stuck between her teeth, and she doesn't like the feeling and I laugh. She wants a prize to bring home to Masako, and so I help her get that prize by throwing a baseball at a bunch of stacked bottles. I win a stuffed elephant that Kana thinks looks really cute, and the elephant's about Masako's size; Kana muses how this is the closest thing Masako will ever get for a pet, and I wonder if she'd be interested in having a cat.

Kana and I then go on amusement park rides like a rollercoaster, and I throw up because I have a propensity to get sick on those rides, but when Kana asks why I went on it with her anyway I'd say it's because I wanted to be with her. And she'd call me an idiot and convince me that we don't have to go on any rides if it makes me sick, but then I propose we get on a ferris wheel, and I tell her that I don't have motion sickness on that kind of ride, and she believes me, but even so she's apprehensive.

When I manage to convince her to let me come with her on the ferris wheel, she and I keep silent the whole way up. We're sitting next to each other, just comfortable in the other's presence. Never looking at the other, silently communicating by being ourselves. We look out the same window and see the lights, and the city's never looked so wonderful, and she's never looked so beautiful.

This is when I tell her I love her, and that I'd want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with her. All that cheesy sort of nonsense that any man would be able to say, except I'd mean it. And she'd laugh at my use of words, she'd say how she didn't peg me the romantic type, that I sounded really awkward and uncharacteristically boyish. But then she'd say she feels the same, and I'd kiss her right then and when the kiss breaks, she asks me, "How are you?"

And I say, "I miss you."

And she says, "You don't have to leave again." And she leans into me, burying her head in my shoulder, "You can stay here. This can be you and me, forever."

I don't want them to leave, I don't want to forget, if I forget I lose them forever because that's the way this world works. Because maybe there is no Heaven, maybe there are no souls, maybe all we are is just sacks of meat and bone, _maybe Masako is dead and gone and just a clump of dirt in the ground and it's all because of me_ _it's all because of me it's all because of **the Wolf**_ —everything tilts, and never sets itself back up again; the insect legs are raging at the back of my head and there's lighting coursing through my veins. I feel something explode in my chest and my eyes burst wide open—

—and I push Kana away. I look at her with impassive, neutral eyes. And at once, her skin turns to paper, her hair turns to ash, and her eyes turn into sand. I tell her, as I push her away for good, nodding in finality:

"You gave everything to me, and all I did was destroy your life. Forgive me, please."

"Why should I forgive you?" she smiles at me, "How can I, when it wasn't your fault?"

And I want to hold her then, until the end of everything.

She asks then, "Can you stay with me?" and then pleads, holding my hands, "Please don't leave me."

I almost say yes. And I know exactly why I say, "I can't."

* * *

When I finally find it in myself to _really_ wake up, it is evening in Leblanc. And I'm glad that all my wounds have been healed. I'm shirtless as well; makes sense. My shirt was bloody; they wouldn't have wanted to scare Sakura-san.

I stay staring at the ceiling for a good fifteen minutes, my mind too blank to formulate the barest glimmer of coherent thought. When I'm sick of looking at wooden boards, I sit up and turn, and I see someone on a futon mattress; she's lying down on the floor. She's blanketed herself, and she's sleeping peacefully, even after everything that just took place hours prior. Her brown hair's all messy, and I see that she still hasn't even changed out of her school uniform. She's sound asleep, and when the evening light comes from my windows and hits her face, I have a memory I don't think I want to get rid of.

But she's not the only one here. Sakamoto's lying against the wall, leaning against the cupboard next to my bed, his jacket as a makeshift blanket. Takamaki's leaning against him, and she's sharing his jacket as her head lays against his shoulder.

"They stayed the whole afternoon." I turn, and I see the cat at my feet. "Makoto told your caretaker that they needed to stay. That they were your friends, and they wanted to watch over you."

I didn't care about any of Kamoshida's victims. I never did. I sought to use them as fuel; as a way to help gain testimonies and make sure Kamoshida had the press on his back till the end of his life. Even when I held Shiho Suzui's arms in my own, all I could think of was Kana. All I could think of was how I failed someone else once before, and how I couldn't afford to do it again. It was concern out of shame, not concern for concern's sake.

Killing Shido. Torturing Kamoshida. I didn't do all that because I cared about their victims. I did all that because I hated them and what they were doing. Excuses and hate, those are all I'm good for. I hurt people because I hate them, and when I love people I get so scared of losing them that I destroy them anyway.

If Kana would see me as I am now, what would I be to her? A simpering, arrogant, selfish, and useless little mongrel who'd much rather whinge about how much of a failure he is than actually try to do something about it. I've just been shambling aimlessly, this entire time.

When she said she was a curse, I brushed it off as quickly as it came. But when I saw it in all its gargantuan blasphemy, I was brought to my knees. Did I try saving her because I loved her? Or did I try saving her, because I couldn't bear to see her sad? Did I try saving her because I cared about her? Was it because I couldn't stand the pain I felt, upon seeing her so destroyed?

She accepted my feelings, reciprocated them; because for some reason she believes I'm more than what I am. That I _used_ to be some cruel, reprehensible, selfish jerk. But what am I now?

I wanted to save Kana, but was blinded by my desperation and my fear of losing her. I wanted to stop Kamoshida, but because of my arrogance I let him go on until it was too late. All this time I've been ending up in the same place over and over again. And it's all me.

I want to stop it but I can't. I keep on wallowing in my fear and anger, and I know that's not what Kana would want, I know that's not what Masako would want. I know all too well, it keeps on searing into my mind that I've just been running around in circles, never doing anything that mattered. Always stuck. Always losing someone, losing something, losing _everything_ —

—I'm sorry for letting it go so wrong.

I shake my head somberly then, closing my eyes. With a sigh, I lower my head back down into the pillow and turn on my side, facing Niijima. As she sleeps, the evening makes her look dignified. She's peaceful. Content. Confident, in herself. Her, and Sakamoto, and Takamaki, willing to stay by _my_ side. Out of pity? No. I don't think they'd be that condescending.

If Kana's a flower, Niijima's an inferno. If Kana's a princess, then Niijima could be considered a queen. If Makoto Niijima is a queen, then I'm more fit to be a jester.

I can't help but recall our conversation the other day, and how she ended it. _It's the world_ , she said. _I can't run from it_.

"What happened to Kamoshida?" I ask the cat.

"Left him in the garbage," it replies.

And I nod, "Good."

"What are you going to do now?" it asks me. "Does our deal still stand?"

And I nod again, "Yes," flumping back into my pillow, and heaving out another sigh. "Turns out I can't run from the world, either."

* * *

 ** _author's notes:_**

* * *

 ** _one of you guys said that Akira came off as one of the most naive characters he'd ever seen. funnily enough, when i read what the fool card was when reversed, i felt it fit all too well :D_**

 ** _Hope you guys liked how this turned out! Next chapter, Makoto and Akira have a conversation about all the stuff that just happened, so that's gonna be real fun to write. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope to see you all in the next chapter, and that you weren't too turned off by how differently things turned out from the original game._**

 ** _EDIT 2/2/2018  
Added just a few extra little details, like the crown being put on top of Morgana's headlights as the squad make their escape, and the extremely small cameo for Mara.  
2/16/2018  
Added the transition from the exit to the Palace to the final dream for Kana.  
2/18/2018  
Too many things wrong with this chapter. Expanded more on how Makoto and the gang got Akira's wounds healed and how they got him back to Leblanc._**


	25. Chapter II, I

**Chapter Two: I Started a Joke**

* * *

When Makoto awakens, she hears an aria. She feels cold, and there's steel clamped around one of her legs. She's dressed in a striped outfit, black-and-white, and as she stares at the ceiling of her padded cell, she remembers that she's been here before.

She sees the old man sitting across from her cell, facing her with an excessively large grin. At his side are two prepubescent girls, wardens in blue. It's almost exactly as she remembers it. She gets up from her bed and turns to the bars, marching over as the hunchback calling himself _Igor_ speaks up.

"First off...I'd like to begin by congratulating you. You've performed admirably," he says, moving his lips without parting his teeth from each other.

"To think our master would give words of praise..."

"You'd better treasure this moment, Inmate!"

"You've encountered allies who share your aesthetics, and you've found your place in reality. The time has come. You've taken your very first steps towards rehabilitation, and while you've still much to learn, you've handled your power impressively for a newly-awakened Wild Card."

"While I'm grateful for the words of praise, you'll forgive me for still being a little on-edge, after everything. It all just happened so fast...," is all Makoto can say. "And...I don't understand what you mean by 'rehabilitation,' nor do I understand what being a... _Wild_ _Card_ entails."

"Then I shall explain it to you now," says Igor. "You have potential to become something far more than your contemporary Persona-users. But your potential must be refined into a useful power. It is weak now, but in refining it, you will gain the strength to stand against the coming ruin. That is the rehabilitation cast upon you."

"Ruin...?" That choice of words strikes Makoto somewhat, and she remembers Sakamoto, Takamaki, and...Kanzaki. She thinks to grab her phone, an all-too human tendency, but then realizes she doesn't have it on her. Nevertheless, she decides to ask, "Did you...plant that app into my phone?"

He replies, all business-like, "Yes. I granted you and your allies the ability to access the Metaverse as a way for you to transport yourselves between Palaces and reality. There are various means by which you can combat the ruin. Battling Shadows and gaining experience is one such way."

And though she's partly relieved to finally be able to know _something_ after all this, she thinks back to his previous few words, and suddenly vile things start ripping through her mind. "This _ruin_...what will happen? How will battling _Shadows_ help us stand against it?"

Because her thoughts go back to Kamoshida's Shadow, roaring and screeching in anger. His monstrous knights, getting crushed under Johanna's wheels. Claiming Kamoshida's Treasure and managing to get out just in the nick of time. Imagining that on a grander scale, legions of monstrous vermin polluting the world, attacking and killing and destroying whatever they please; that is the ruin she envisions. She feels her hands sweat at the thought of it all, and her chest grows cold as Igor answers her without answering her.

"When the time comes, you will know," he says simply. "You will require my guidance, as well as the assistance of your allies in reality. Their presence will help you refine your abilities."

"...how?" she asks a little cautiously.

"Though it may be presumptuous of us," the more waifish of the wardens, Justine, says, "we have words of wisdom as well."

"When you're out there in the real world," Caroline says, her voice shrill and eyes sharp, "you'd better hone your relationships with those you have contracts with! If you've got time to waste, visit your contractors."

"Cultivate your relationships with others, simply put," smiles Justine then. "That is another source of power to evade the ruin."

And with that explained to her, Makoto first thinks it sounds a little too good to be true. But she quickly realizes that it makes sense. From what Morgana had told her, a Persona appears to be a manifestation of her psyche; a sort of positive counterpart to a Shadow. And so, it would make sense that relationships with others would affect her mental state, in turn affecting Johanna's abilities. In turn affecting her ability to stand against whatever _ruin_ is coming for her and for the world.

If it gets that bad, at least.

"You're on the cusp of forming your very first few contracts," says Igor, his voice still that monotonous baritone it's always been; yet Makoto thinks it's the closest he'll ever come to _excited_. "Your heart will steadily gain the power of opposition. At this rate, the rehabilitation will come along smoothly. This is indeed a joyous occassion. May the devotion to your rehabilitation grow even deeper."

But at that, all the memories of the Palace come flooding back, and she wonders what to do next. Wonders if all that happened...meant something.

"What will happen, now?" she asks him, scowling at the memory of Kamoshida.

"It is difficult to tell what may come of your actions, but be warned. The Metaverse Navigator is not a toy, and the power to steal the hearts of the corrupt is not meant to be used without preparation for the consequences they may bear. In the end, you've done all you can, and you must now wait for your labors to bear fruit."

"Yes...," she says, nodding to herself as her voice begins to crack, and as she thinks of everything that could happen she can't help but feel afraid. For her future, for what she's done, for what she may have done. "All I can do right now is...wait. There's no use mulling over it..."

"I must tell you that there is a monster in your midst," Igor suddenly says. "Something unimaginable and indescribable rests inside of him, and it would be expedient for you to contend with it as quickly as you can. For, if left to his own devices, he will bring misfortune upon you and those you cherish."

And she wonders just who he might be talking about for a second. Only a second.

"Oh no...," she whispers quietly, remembering a man with dark hair and glasses and the most sallow eyes she's ever seen.

"The time has come," says Justine suddenly. "Return to your fleeting moments of rest..."

And Makoto pushes forward, trying to get through the bars, trying to ask more questions, "W-wait! I'm not done here...!"

But then the world turns blue. And black. And all manner of colors.

* * *

 **\- SECTION I -  
** **"I know what the world's _like_!"**

* * *

 _Sis is going to kill me._

That is the first thought that reaches Makoto Niijima's head when she stirs from the futon mattress. She rubs her eyes and she looks out the window of the attic; it's early morning. When she opens her phone, she discovers it's 7:30 AM. A part of her is thankful that it's Sunday. With everything that's happened in the last few days, she knows she could use the rest.

She sees Sakamoto and Takamaki sleeping side-by-side, against the shelf next to my bed. And when she turns to my bed, she sees I'm not there. She grips her shoulders as she breathes, and tells herself to calm down.

It's at this point that the headache hits her, as does the gravity of everything she did just the previous day. She thinks back to Kamoshida, what she helped do to him and his Shadow, and all the chaos of the fight that took place. She remembers feeling...exhilarated, really. It was the same feeling she had when she'd awakened to Johanna; the fight caused something like an unending jolt throughout her nerves, and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't feel any satisfaction whatsoever throughout the whole sordid ordeal. It was almost storybook, in a way; the outlandish rebels defeat the mad king, stealing his most prized possession and escaping with their lives. But she quickly realizes that things may not go the way she wishes for them to.

She remembers what Kanzaki's Persona did, in the end. And she now has to wonder if perhaps Murphy's Law is in full effect. Maybe Kamoshida's Shadow was critically injured. Maybe that will cause ramifications in the real world; maybe Kamoshida himself will end up brain dead after all. Did they take things too far? Did they end up crossing a line, just as Kanzaki warned? But in the end, there's no point in worrying over it now. What's done is done.

All she can do now is hope for the best.

She can't help but turn to thoughts of her father. He'd be able to comfort her, surely. Give her advice on what to do next. There was no other way to stop Kamoshida, was there? All other options had been exhausted, weren't they? If Kamoshida was allowed to continue on this path he'd set for himself, more people would've gotten hurt. Lives would've been in danger. No one dared speak out against him, and those who did ended up ostracized. She did what she had to. She couldn't have been _wrong_ to do this.

And she couldn't have been wrong to think about someone else—

"There's curry downstairs, if you'd like it."

She sees me at the door and stops her train of thought. I don't think to ask why she's breathing the way she is, or why she's clutching the blanket so tightly. I turn and I see that Sakamoto and Takamaki are still sleeping, before facing Niijima once more.

"Good thing it's Sunday, huh?" I chuckle, smirking somewhat and turning back to the stairs. As I tread down, I hear the floorboards creak, and when I turn I see that she's right behind me.

"I want to talk to you," she says suddenly.

I scratch the back of my head, "Yeah. Me, too."

* * *

"Sakura-san's out getting some groceries. It'll be a while 'til he gets back," I say, sipping some curry from my bowl.

She and I are at a booth in the corner of Leblanc. Our bodies are facing each other, but we're not _looking_ at each other; the curry looks infinitely more interesting, less judgmental. But like always, the quiet gets too much.

"Why was the real Kamoshida in the Palace with you and Morgana?" she asks.

"Cat didn't explain?" I ask her, deciding to eye her.

She faces me then, frowns, and responds, "No. He didn't want to say."

I put the spoon back in my bowl and decide to tell her outright, "Had a feeling he might've felt a little queasy."

"What did you do to Kamoshida?" she asks, wide-eyed and tone accusatory.

"I pushed my thumbs into his eyes, and knocked him out in the faculty office," I tell her with a straight face. Of course, she recoils. That alone is worth it. "Thankfully, he was alone. So nobody saw me and the cat teleport ourselves to his Palace, where he woke up. I had him knocked out again by strangling him with a chain."

" _What_!?"

" _Then_ , I had the cat turn into a bus, and I chained him to the hood. From there, I threatened to cut out his eyes, and his ears, until he was just completely helpless. The plan was to make Kamoshida's Shadow fear for his host's safety, and then willingly hand over the Treasure for the sake of at least keeping the real Kamoshida alive. But there was always the possibility that Kamoshida's Shadow would just get all antsy about it, whereupon the cat would escape the Palace and I'd hold the Shadow off until you and the others would come in. And the rest is history."

She just blinks as she looks at me in half-anger, half-amazement. But then it turns into plain anger, born of worry. "You shouldn't have tried to do it all by yourself."

"I had the cat with me—"

"You know what I mean," she grunts. "You could've gotten yourself killed. You could've gotten Kamoshida killed. Why didn't you tell me or Sakamoto or Takamaki any of this? Either of you?"

"The cat actually thought to involve you guys. I disagreed."

"Why?"

"Because none of you would've agreed to any of the stuff I did to Kamoshida. Venturing into his Palace, stealing his heart, you'd have been down for that. But torturing and terrorizing the man, the way I did? Chaining him to the hood of a car, manhandling him and making him wet himself in his fear? I didn't think you'd have liked that."

"You didn't have to do any of that," she says, sounding almost _disappointed in me._

"Oh, was that a _bad thing_ for me to do?" I ask her, right out. "I did it in the way a _villain_ would? By torturing him? Hurting him? Making him wet himself? In the end, his _heart changes_ , which is exactly what you and I both wanted. The only difference is there's violence to actual humans this time around, instead of monsters that look like them."

"That's...," she scowls and turns to the table, "that's not how it was supposed to..."

"It's too easy, Niijima," I tell her. "We have all this power. We're brainwashing people, plain and simple. I figured that if my heart was gonna change, I'd at least like to see how it happens. Wouldn't you?"

She sighs, facing away from me, "What if Kamoshida _remembers_ the Palace?" then she swifty turns and levels her eyes with me. "What if he remembers you attacking him, throwing him into this _death world_ , what'll you do if he tries to get even?"

"If his heart's changed, then he won't even try," I say, calming her down. "He'll confess everything to the police. If he says a word about my involvement in his Palace, they won't believe him. And even then, I doubt he'll even try saying a word about Palaces anyway, because the fear of me coming after him will always be breathing down his neck. He's finished and he knows it. He'll leave Shujin, no doubt about it. Or kill himself out of terror over what his life's become."

She furrows her brows then, "You shouldn't _say_ that—"

"That was a risk," I tell her firmly. "That was a risk, from day one. Him, having a mental breakdown. Him, possibly killing himself over the strain we might put on his mind. Him, suffering madly as we steal something that makes him _himself_. Those are all risks that you were willing to take, and I was willing to take. You don't get to be the good girl now and tell me that I'm the one doing a _bad thing_. You're just as much into this as I am."

She glares at me then. "I don't understand you."

"Which part?"

"You tell us we're terrible people for invading Kamoshida's Palace, but when _you_ do it you go out of your way to traumatize—"

"We're not _heroes,_ " I say outright to Niijima, slamming my hand down on the table. "You're not, I'm not, the cat and Sakamoto and Takamaki are _not_ —and it was never about protecting people, it was about making sure bad people get what's _coming to them_ ," I declare. "That's all it was, that's all Kamoshida was, and don't you deny it."

"That's what it was to _you_ ," she growls, and I don't rebut her. After that, she pauses a little, scowls, and decides to change the subject. "Why did you change your mind so suddenly?"

I closed my eyes, stirring the curry and explaining, "I figured you were right. In the end, all my actions amounted to nothing. And Kamoshida was just gonna keep doing what he was doing without compunction, unless his heart changed. I had another idea, though. I thought, perhaps I could go into the faculty office, egg him into confessing his crimes, and then record his confession as he'd beat me down."

"You're serious," she sighs.

"Yes. But the cat had the more appealing idea," I say.

Then I see her expression change, and her once stony visage gives way to something like horror.

"What if he... _does_ end up dying...?" she asks then, suddenly, her hand gripping her shoulder.

" _Now_ , you're asking that question?" I ask her flatly, before sighing and coming out with, "Then the blood's on my hands. I'm the one who had Mephistopheles barrel into his Shadow, and that had nothing to do with any of you. You can all pass the buck to me. If he does die, you have nothing to worry about."

"How can you say that so easily?" she exclaims then, sounding actually _shocked_ at me, like I've told her something she doesn't already know.

"This is why I told you not to be a part of this," I say. "These are the kind of questions you begin asking yourself. Did I attack him too hard? Did I go too far? Will this end up killing him? A person's mental state isn't the only thing on the line, here. Before you know it, turning back's no longer an option. All we can hope for is that he _does_ end up just surrendering himself to the police, and nothing else."

"What else could we have _done_?" she exclaims. "Nobody would've believed us. Everyone we tried to get on our side denied it despite the evidence _literally_ being on their faces. Kamoshida had enough of a reputation to get people to flock over to him. He could just deny everything and all our accusations would fall flat on their backs. We had no choice but to..."

"Yeah. And now we have to accept the consequences, whatever they may be," I tell her, glaring at her. And she furrows her brows, and gazes back at me in something like pity. "Don't do that. That look in your eyes, I hate it. What's done is done, and the weight's all on me. I did it, and I accept whatever comes. You don't have to—"

"The weight's on me, too."

"Oh come on—"

"I dragged you into it, when all you wanted to do was get us out of it. Palaces, Personas, Shadows...I wasn't prepared for what could happen. You're right. You're absolutely right." Then she holds her head in her hands. "I helped make this happen. No matter how much of a hand you had in it, I was involved. I've been ignorant of it. I didn't want to think about it because I was so stuck on trying to make Kamoshida _hurt_."

And then and there, I remember last night. Seeing her sleeping on the floor. I thought of Kana, my selfishness, and how easy it was for me to justify my actions all because of thoughts of her. I grunt at her, remembering why I did what I did, and why it was so easy for me to do it. And then and there I feel more ashamed than I've ever been.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed about," I tell her. "I've been selfish, more than you. That's all _I've_ been, all this time. I've been running around in circles."

She pauses then, and stops talking for a few moments before coming out, "What do you mean?"

I shake my head, "I just planned to chain him to the front of the car." And she faces me again. "I didn't plan to push my thumbs into his eyes, or strangle him, or put a knife up to his face." Her fists ball up at that last statement, as I face her. "He talked about her."

"Who?"

"Kana. Kana Kohaku," I say, closing my eyes shut. "He talked about her." She doesn't respond, letting me continue. "He said that...if he were in Shido's place, all I'd have been able to do was just...watch." Then, my eyes meet hers. "I did it all for me. Because I hated him, and I wanted him to live with his sins for the rest of his days. Even now, I'm considering invading other people's Palaces for my own gain."

She just looks at me, dumbfounded. "You're...what?"

And I face her fully. Seeing her completely, in and of herself. "You said you couldn't run away from the world. Neither can I. But...I doubt it's something you can call _justice_. There're others out there, like Kamoshida. Some of them, a lot worse than he could ever be. Stopping them won't help their victims, nor will it stop people like them from continuing to spread. But to tell you the truth, I think I'd just feel satisfied _hitting back_ , you know?"

Her shoulders don't tense up. She doesn't look at me in disappointment, nor does she look at me in anger. It's something else, something I can't quite describe.

"It's petty," I tell her. "I admit it. I might end up hurting people, maybe even killing them. I don't want to kill anyone, not anymore. But...I just don't want to see more of them out there." And I remember last night. Seeing her sleeping on the floor. I thought of Kana, my selfishness, and how easy it was for me to justify my actions all because of thoughts of her. "I know it's wrong. I know that if there's a Heaven, I don't deserve to be there. And I don't care."

"Kanzaki—"

"I derive satisfaction from hurting other people." I say to her, my voice cold and my eyes burning into hers. "It's just me, and them. If I'm a monster, then they're devils, and putting them in their place makes me feel good. I attacked Kamoshida and I tortured him because I hated him and hurting him felt good. It wasn't out of the goodness of my heart, or my desire for some brand of justice. I did it because I liked it. It's never about other people, Niijima. It's always just us."

She furrows her brows again, and says in a pleading way, "It's not about us—"

"It's _always_ about us," I say. "People're looking for every excuse to make themselves look like heroes, and make their opposition look like the villains. I told you about Shido already, and you _know_ about Kamoshida. Good people are _good_ not because they do good things, but because someone else told you they're good," I say. "When you help others, you're really helping yourself. That's all I've been doing, that's all _you_ 've been doing, and I can't _stand_ it when people try to dress it up as otherwise."

She just stares at me in disbelief. "How cynical _are_ you?"

I just shake my head at her, "I told you already, they're all liars. What kind of justice can you get from them?"

"They're not all the monsters you make them out to be," she says.

"What, are you going to give me _examples_ , now?" I scoff.

"My father was a police officer who died in the line of duty three years ago," she says. "In the middle of a shootout between three gangs, he tried saving people who got caught in the crossfire. You know what he _looked like_? I don't know. They kept me from seeing him because whatever the bullets did _to his face,_ it made him unrecognizable. But the baby he tried to save? Completely unharmed."

She and I don't talk for a while after that. But we remain in our seats, staring into the curry. Again, the silence has to end.

"I'm sorry," I say simply.

She just ignores my apology. "I don't care if you believe in people or not. I don't care if you think you're a terrible person, or if what you did was justified, or if you think invading Palaces is a horrible thing to do. I believe that sometimes, we do what we have to in order to protect others. And I don't believe we're all entirely selfish. Not even you."

Because at my words, she remembers hearing the news stories and seeing all the monsters. And how much they looked so normal, so utterly plain. Their victims' faces would be blurred and pixellated except in the darkest corners of the internet, and even then the accounts of the eyewitnesses themselves would paint enough of a picture that images would no longer be needed. Families shredded, lives destroyed, and worlds burnt all because someone thought that hurting someone else was an acceptable way to alleviate his own apathy.

There's too much of it in her mind, too much to remove. She thinks of her father. Gasping for life, suffering alone, unable to even reach out to her in a hospital bed. She remembers staring up at her sister, and her sister's cold eyes turning into those of a stranger. Thinking of people she thought she once knew. And while she is loathe to admit it, she actually _understands_ Kanzaki. Understands him all too well.

"I want to help you," she says suddenly.

"What?"

"I want to help you," she says. "I want to keep fighting."

"Wait, hold on—"

"I can't stand the sight of them, either," she says. "I don't want to see them. Acting like they own this world, sauntering around and hurting people for the sake of it."

"Niijima, I think you're being a little—"

"Everyday, I see it," she says. "It never ever stops."

And I stop talking for a moment, taking in the red of her eyes and how she's able to concentrate so much anger into them. But then I ask, "What are you talking about?"

"It's not like I don't know it, either," she grunts out, her hands tense now as she puts her back to her chair. She closes her eyes as she breathes, gripping her shoulders tight as her lungs grow cold and her mind goes blank white. "It's all over the place. There was a human trafficking ring that was discovered in Sweden and it was linked back to dozens of politicians. There was a woman who microwaved her baby just because it was _too loud when it cried._ A nine-year-old gets raped by her stepfather, a guy pulls a gun on a crowd full of people and just fires for no reason, and there's people all over the internet who _sympathize_ , say they're victims too, say that the _monsters_ responsible for committing these crimes are heroes or just misunderstood. And nobody talks about it. Nobody wants to talk about it, because nobody wants to think about other people being agonized, even when they're right under their noses."

And I see her tremble. Actually physically tremble, like she's trying to keep herself from vomiting. She practically tears her eyes open as she lifts her head up to meet me and leans forward, "I can't change the world. I know that in the end, I'm nobody. But if going into Palaces, and changing the hearts of people like that can make the world a better place, if even for a short while, then I'll do it. If not to stop them from hurting anyone else, then to give _something_ back to the people they've hurt. I know what the world's _like_!"

And then she puts herself back to the chair, glaring at me still.

I tell her, "You really want to _do_ this again?"

"I want to help people," she says simply. "I can't just stand back anymore. Not when I have this kind of power."

"And you're willing to do it with _me_?" I ask.

"I'm willing to do it by _myself_ ," she throats out. "But I know I can't. And I know you can't do it by yourself, either. Kamoshida's Palace overwhelmed us, even with Sakamoto, Takamaki, and Morgana. I don't like you, and you don't like _any_ of us. But if you're going down this road, you can't expect to survive going through it alone."

I scowl at her, narrowing my eyes. "You go down this path, you'll never get back out. Are you sure you want this?"

And then a second male voice interjects with, "I do."

We turn to the stairs. Sakamoto and Takamaki. Standing there.

"So do I," Takamaki says, treading down the stairs and grabbing a chair from the counter. Sakamoto follows her lead.

"You guys...," Niijima mutters. "How much did you hear...?"

"Heard someone slam their hand down on the table, hard enough to wake us up," sighs Sakamoto, getting settled in his seat. "And...we thought it'd be rude to interrupt."

"We took care of Kamoshida," says Takamaki. "But in the end, there's more people like him. Out there in the world. It's not like stopping just one of them will change anything. People like him'll keep on keeping on."

"Morgana said that anybody with a desire distorted enough can spawn a Palace," says Niijima then. "If that's the case, then we can—"

"We don't even know if Kamoshida actually got a change of heart," I tell them all. "It's too soon to tell. What if he ends up breaking down? Going limp? Becoming a vegetable, or worse, insane? Would you all be so keen to go back to Palaces, then?"

"Then I'll make a deal with you," says Niijima.

"What?" I throat out, Sakamoto and Takamaki eyeing Niijima carefully.

"If the worst happens and he goes mad, or becomes a vegetable, or just shuts down—if anything happens to Kamoshida that has nothing to do with his heart changing, then we stop. I and Sakamoto and Takamaki never venture into another Palace, and you can rub in our faces all you want how right you are. But if his heart changes, if he does turn around and surrender himself to the police—" she leans forward, to the point where I can feel her breath on me as she puts her face directly in front of mine, "—then you help us. You join us. We take down Palaces _together_. Deal?"

Sakamoto and Takamaki eye me carefully, Niijima opening her hand out. Waiting for me to shake it. And all at once I remember Mephistopheles' words.

He said that I'd become a beacon. That my presence would lure others to their demise. And at this very moment, with Makoto Niijima offering me her hand, practically putting everything on the line right here and now, I begin to fear for her. Fear for the other two at her side. Fear for the future that awaits us all; and as I wonder what to say next I realize that she's completely and totally right.

Just as she said, I can't run from the world any longer. And just as I said, there'll always be another Kamoshida. There'll always be another Shido. But will there always be people like us? With the things that we know, and the things we can do?

And suddenly, Niijima hears a—

 _ ***SMASH!***_

 _What!?_ she silently cries out.

Suddenly a card appears before her, in her mind. It is a simple black card, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Within the black card is a laughing man, his teeth sharp and tears flowing endlessly from the corners of his eyes. His face is distorted; half of it is smiling while the other is profoundly downcast. The card speaks to her, tells her what it is: a bond, forged. And she sees the card's name: _LA FARCEUR._

And then she hears a wispy female voice, breathing directly into her ears.

 _ **"I am thou...thou art I.  
** **Thou hast acquired a new vow.  
**_ _ **It may tear out thine wings of rebellion  
**_ _ **And further enchain thee to captivity.  
**_ _ **With the birth of the Jester Persona,  
**_ _ **Thou'st attained a great evil  
**_ _ **Surely to bedevil thee all thine days  
**_ _ **From now until kingdom come."**_

At that moment, she loses everything she'd ever built up. She looks at me, and she looks at me for half-a-second as though I'm some sort of abomination that shouldn't exist in this world. But she sheathes herself, restrains herself from going completely off the rails, even though every cell in her's screaming at her to attack me, to make sure I stay down, to make sure I never get up again and she doesn't know why. She doesn't know why, at all.

And she realizes that in making the deal with me, she'll find out—why Igor warned her of me, why she feels compelled to destroy me right at this very moment, and what kind of person I really am—she'll find out, very, very soon.

By the time she realizes this, she discovers I'm already shaking her hand.

"Deal," I tell her, wondering how to describe the look she has in her red eyes.

* * *

"Did you mean it...?" asks Ryuji.

Makoto just nods.

Ann cups her chin then, "Doesn't sound like a particularly bad deal...though I wonder what made him change his mind."

"Guy's a jerk, but he's experienced...," grunts Ryuji. "Maybe having him on our side won't be such a bad thing."

Ann blinks at him, "Well, I get that he can be pretty standoffish, but I wouldn't call him a jerk. Something happen between you two?"

Ryuji shakes his head, "Day we met, he tried to warn us about Palaces. Told us _changing hearts_ was too dangerous an option, and when I told him what Kamoshida did, he just shrugged me off. Said I needed to be made of sterner stuff, or something."

Ann turns to Makoto, "Did he really say that?" to which Makoto just nods, again. "Now I'm really interested in what got him to change his mind..."

"He figured he was wrong," says Ryuji. "Too late, in my opinion."

"How does he even _know_ about Palaces, to begin with...?" asks Ann.

"You can ask him," replies Makoto.

"What, do you know?" Ryuji cocks his brow.

Makoto sighs, "You remember what happened during our second venture in the Palace?" They both recoil at the thought. "After you two left, I had to take him home."

Ryuji scoffs, "What, guy doesn't know how to commute home by himself?"

She shakes her head, frowning a little, "He was sick. Every few moments or so, he'd fall flat on his face. Even today, he didn't seem completely over it. I took him home to make sure he wouldn't hit a car or something on the way."

Ryuji blinks, "Okay. That's less funny."

"He told me a little on how he got into everything involving Palaces. But it's not my place to tell you. It's...a sore spot for him."

"That bad...?" frowns Ann.

"I understand him," replies Makoto. "I don't _like_ him. I don't like his attitude. But I understand him."

Ryuji and Ann say nothing as Makoto's brows furrow. They're still a ways away from the train.

"So, what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ryuji scratches the back of his head, "well...now that everything's said and done, we really just wait?"

"That's what Morgana said," Makoto sighs. "That's all that's available to us at the moment."

"Do you think it'll turn out okay?" asks Ann. "After everything that happened..."

Makoto shakes her head, "I'm not sure. We've stolen the Treasure, but what Kanzaki did to Kamoshida's Shadow...there's really no telling what could happen now. We've made our bed."

"What're you going to do now?" Ryuji asks.

"I'm going home. I feel like I can sleep for days," Makoto sighs. "You?"

"Gonna head over to a ramen shop on the far end of the city," says Ryuji, clearing his throat. "With everything, I'll be surprised if I _don't_ just eat everything on the menu...," then he turns to both Makoto and Ann, "wanna come with? Or is it too soon?"

"I'll pass," says Makoto, sounding out of breath. "I'd be happy to hang out some other time, however."

"Same," replies Ann. "Sorry. I'm planning to check on Shiho today. See if anything's changed."

"Right," nods Ryuji soberly. "Take care, both of you. Busy few weeks ahead of us all..."

"Guys," says Ann, looking to her left, "train."

And so the three of them get on the train, but none of them talk the whole way through. When Ann and Ryuji have to get off, they say their goodbyes to Makoto and that's that. Leaving the student council president to ponder.

Whatever happens to Kamoshida, Makoto's partially responsible and she knows it. Everyone knows it. If he dies, or goes insane, or changes his heart. Whatever the case, they're in it now and they don't think they'll ever be able to get out of it. And maybe he deserves it. Maybe it was the only way to stop him.

Makoto can't say she _regrets_ it, or anything. It's not like she'll shed a tear at the idea of someone like _Kamoshida_ finally getting karma over everything he's dealt out onto others.

A lot of _maybe_ s, that's all there is.

But Kanzaki had a point. She can't change the past, only accept what she's done and take responsibility for whatever comes.

Something doesn't sit right with her. It's blurred, hazy, but it's there nonetheless. It's heavy in her chest, and it's weighing her down a little. She can't say it's guilt, it'd be generous to say that. Rather, it's this sort of foreboding feeling that _something is coming_ , and she's not sure what it is or how she can stop it.

She recalls Igor's words in the Velvet Room, and that voice in her brain announcing just how badly she's messed up in the mere act of _bonding_ with Akira Kanzaki. They call him a monster, something that will bring misfortune upon her and those she cherishes.

While she admits he's not exactly very chipper, she wouldn't go _that far_. He's unpleasant, but she couldn't call him monstrous. But she remembers what he did to the real Kamoshida, the real Shido, and his plain confession: _I derive satisfaction from hurting other people_.

She wonders now if she's troubled more by Kanzaki's confession, or the fact that to some degree she can _understand him_. After all, the world's just full of people willing to do terrible things for no reason at all. She can't even count the amount of times she's wished for God to just come down from Heaven and send them all to Hell. Like how she's dreamed.

Before she's even aware of it, she's standing at the front door of her apartment.

She asks herself how she'll deal with Sis' inevitable outburst of _where were you the other day_. When she opens the door, however, she isn't met with any sort of outburst. She isn't met by anyone, or anything, besides a familiar silence.

The only sound in the apartment is the sound of her feet tapping against the floorboards. She's about to call for her sister, as she closes the door and puts her shoes at the entrance, but remembers feeling her phone buzz in her pocket just the other day; as she was tending to Kanzaki in his bed.

It never really crossed her mind to actually read the text, until now.

 _I'll be out for the next few days. I'll be staying in a motel, close to the station. I'll be back this Wednesday. This case has been very demanding. I'm sorry._

Makoto doesn't think she's relieved. In fact, she thinks she'd like it if she had someone to talk to, about _anything_ right now. Even Sis.

She didn't think that the familiar silence of her apartment could have ever been so loud.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

* * *

And so it begins! Betcha Makoto really regrets making that deal with Akira now, huh? Next chapter, we see if Kamoshida's change of heart took off or if I decided to just rain on everyone's parade by letting him die! And though I'm sure everyone wants the latter option, things might not go exactly the way you expect.

There's still a story to be told here, after all; and a story can't stay completely face down in the grit, it's got to have some moments of levity as well. Plus, I've finally got a plotline for the rest of the story finally down pat; hence the change in description again. Considering what I've got planned later, it seems fitting to get all the happy sappy stuff out of the way asap.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope to see you guys in the next chapter, to see if the deal pays off and if we actually do get to see some Phantom Thief business somewhere down the line!

 **EDIT: 2/12/18  
** **Added the ending sequences, felt they'd help the pace a lot.  
2/16/18  
There was a scene where Makoto recounted a particularly traumatic ordeal involving two parents doing terrible things to their children; while I thought initially it was thematically appropriate, I grew to think that it ultimately ended up too dramatic for the chapter. So I had it excised. Maybe I'll revisit it somewhere along the line.  
4/1/18  
Changed the chapter title. Thought it fit more.  
6/14/18  
AND have made the Confidant rank worse for Makoto. :P  
7/7/18  
Fixed some of the dialogue. Thought it was a lil too heavy-handed.**


	26. Chapter II, II

**Chapter Two: I Started a Joke**

* * *

"Are you alright?"

That's the first thing Sakura-san says to me, once Niijima leaves Leblanc along with Sakamoto and Takamaki.

"I'm fine," I tell him, and he sees through me immediately.

"How long have you been sick for?" he asks me.

"For two days, now."

He shakes his head, "You should've told me."

"I had something important to do."

"Don't give me that. You had to be dragged here." Then he puts his hand on my forehead, and pulls it away a moment afterwards. "There's a doctor right around the corner. You'll go there tomorrow. I don't want to hear a word about some _important thing_ you have to do at school. If you have homework, call your friends."

"Yes, sir," I say to him.

He furrows his brows then, "Don't just say _yes sir_ with me, and start taking care of yourself!" My eyes widen due to how he's raised his voice so suddenly. He then sighs, and turns all stoic again. "People in Shujin caught wind of your circumstances, but you didn't care. And now you've been going to school while sick, to the point where you actually need help getting home."

"I'm sorry."

"Is that really all you can say about this?"

I nod.

He sighs again, a little more gruffly this time around. Then he tells me, "Call your father. He's been worried sick about you."

"I will," I tell him. "I will, as soon as I can."

Then he shakes his head, gesturing _shoo_ with his hands, "Go to your room. Rest up. If you're still feeling sick by tomorrow, you _will_ go to that doctor. Her name's Tae Takemi. Just say you're from Leblanc, from around the corner."

"Yes, sir."

I turn my back to him and head up the stairs. Though it's only morning, it feels like entire days have passed in these few hours alone.

I head over to the table in my room, and grasp a small battered medal. It's torn and frayed at the ribbon, and the gold of the medal itself is chipped and cracked. This is everything that Kamoshida was, all manifested in a single object that means absolutely nothing to anybody else.

Holding it in the palm of my hands, I remember how it felt back then. To ravage his Palace, torture him, destroy everything he'd built in a manner of seconds. But now that it's all over, I can't help but feel as though I hadn't won anything at all.

Then I hear a clattering noise.

I turn. Sakura-san.

Placing a small table with legs that reach up to my shins down on the floor.

"You're eating lunch here," he tells me. "Can't have you spreading your germs all over the ground floor. The moment you're done eating, you're going to rest. I'll bring up food again for dinner. Got it?"

I nod at him slowly.

"Good," he says then, before heading back down the stairs.

* * *

 **\- SECTION II -  
"I wish I could have killed all of them from the moment they were born."  
**

* * *

When it happens, it happens quickly. First, rumors begin spreading. Some people see Kamoshida leaving the principal's office and looking like a dead man. Then, PE classes are put under for an indeterminate amount of time. People start talking and then the more unsavory sorts of gossip begin popping up; talk about Kamoshida being suspended for doing the dirty with another student. But there's nothing concrete, so the rumors are left to wallow in themselves for the time being.

Then PE comes back the following week, and Kamoshida's been replaced by some skinny man with glasses and indentured teeth. Everyone's now scrambling to find out just what happened. The principal of Shujin recognizes this as soon as the forums start popping up with messageboards surrounding the topic of Kamoshida. Kobayakawa's forced to release an official statement, but he doesn't want to make too much of a fuss. When the day comes, we're all pulled into the auditorium. Dozens of students, all of whom had classes under Kamoshida, all of whom had questions as to what could've happened to the man.

The principal tries to reassure us, tries to make the situation seem not as bad as it actually is. He lets it slip that Kamoshida's turned in a letter requesting for a sabbatical taking place over an indeterminate amount of time. Everyone clamors for a moment. I turn around in the crowd, to see their expressions. Sakamoto's pensive. Takamaki's hands are balled into fists. Niijima doesn't let anything show. The next thirty minutes or so involves the principal suddenly talking about our duties as members of society, how these sort of stress-related incidents happen to people who overwork themselves, and that Kamoshida needs the time to recover. The day ends quicker than expected, but no one involved in the change-of-heart decides to interact with each other until something _real_ comes to light.

Then the news hits.

 _"Olympic medalist Suguru Kamoshida has turned himself into police, confessing that he has physically and sexually abused several students under his..."_

Then things get fantastic on social media.

It's schizophrenic at first. Fans of Kamoshida talk about how much of an inspiration he was to them. Gets to the point some sort of defense squad forms. A cabal of fans, crying out for Kamoshida to be free. Saying he was wrongfully accused, that everyone was lying, that he can't be responsible for such a crime; the man _confessed,_ but they're still trying to defend him. Then larger groups crop up out of the woodwork. Talking about Kamoshida being a monster. That he should kill himself. That he has to suffer the same way he made others suffer. Prison's too good for the man. He'll still be alive. Other groups still view the situation with more than a little levity; mocking him, jeering him, ridiculing him for seeking out teenagers. _For an Olympic medalist, he must've not had a lot of stamina in bed_ , things like that.

But the news continues to hammer home Kamoshida's remorse. The news says that he outright admits it, and when the cameras catch him he always looks as though he's been crying his eyes out for days. People who'd worked with Kamoshida start talking; mostly women, of course. They say he always has been a creep, that he always lingered around them and made them feel _so_ uncomfortable. But none of them had spoken up before because of who he had been, because of his stature in society, and somehow that's supposed to make us viewers sympathize.

Some of Kamoshida's teammates get interviewed as well; some talk about how _shocked_ they are that this information's come forward, that they never expected someone like _him_ to have fallen to such depths. They all condemn him, they all disown him, they all do the predictable celebrity thing and never ever try to even remotely sound like they were ever friends with the guy.

Then Shujin removes his info from their site; essentially unperson-ing him. School doesn't wanna associate with _those_ kinds of people, after all. The rumors continue to spread, but the principal doesn't try to quell them anymore, figuring to just let them talk their mouths off. Soon the news comes into Shujin, asks for interviews. Several girls from the volleyball team, from the women's basketball team, from basically _every_ PE subject under Kamoshida come clean. That it was scary at times to be around him, that he would be so forward, that he would be so _touchy-feely_. Then the men come in, with their bruises and bandages, talking about how Kamoshida routinely abused them, put them through Hell every training session.

They all give the same excuse. They were scared. Kamoshida could've ruined their lives. What could they have done?

Not long after that, someone new appears. Someone new comes forward. Says she recognized Kamoshida's face in the news. Says that he attacked her when she was just a teenager, and that she's lived with the trauma for all these years. Her name is Aiko Yamamoto. But her name's not important. What is important is the fact that she remembers Kamoshida and his _friends_ standing over her in an alleyway, she remembers clutching herself, holding herself and her torn clothes tight, Kamoshida drunk and dazed and laughing over her withered and hollowed body.

That's the story that seals the deal, then and there.

It all happens in just a few weeks. You'd think I'd feel satisfied, or fulfilled, or generally pleased. But surprisingly it doesn't hit me very hard. I don't feel _good_ about it. But I do feel like I can do it again. And again. And again. Maybe then I'll feel it. Maybe then it'll all make sense.

In a twist of things, I'm the one to message everybody, once everything's said and done.

 _Saturday, after classes, Leblanc._

* * *

Saturday comes, and Sakura-san's left to get groceries in the city once more, meaning that I and the rest of my ragtag band of ne'er do wells and outcasts can plot and plan and talk about stealing hearts for as long as we'd like. Or at least until Sakura-san comes back. At which point, we'll have to convince him to let them stay a bit longer if they need to.

Sakamoto and Takamaki have arrived far ahead of Niijima, which is a bit of a surprise. They're wearing casual sorts of attire; Sakamoto's wearing cutoffs and knee-high shorts, Takamaki's wearing a denim jacket over a white shirt and some black jeans. Though we all agreed to meet up today, it's still incredibly awkward between all three of us because the only time we've really spent together was either arguing about Kamoshida or beating up Kamoshida or screaming and trying to survive.

So none of us really take to talking at first. We're all settled with being huddled in a corner in Leblanc, at a booth, eating cup noodles and saying nothing at all. I've got a small mug under my chin, which I take sips out of every now and again.

It's fifteen minutes of this before Sakamoto decides that he has a question he thinks is worth asking.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," I tell him.

"How did you find out about Palaces?"

"Ryuji," Takamaki stammers out.

"We need to know. If we're gonna work with him...we need to know."

"But..."

"He's right, it's only fair," I tell her, clearing my throat. "Though, first things first...how did you and Niijima know about what I did to Shido?"

"Saw you in the news, is all. You made it pretty big," he shrugs. "Though I...kinda forgot about it until senpai brought it up. But then...did you know how your info got leaked to the others in the school?"

"Had a feeling Kamoshida had someone else do it," I tell him, and he nods. "I figured he'd have been responsible for that; he was rather brusque with me when we first talked in the real world, so the idea that he wanted to put me in my place through dissemination of my past antics doesn't seem out of the ordinary for him. Though I was more inclined to believe that everyone just remembered the news, when it hit."

"Nobody really even brought it up until Mishima leaked the info," he sighs. "Sorry to say."

"Mishima?" I ask him.

"He's in your class, dude," he remarks. "You don't talk to him?"

"I don't talk to anyone, really."

He shakes his head, "Can't blame you."

"I remembered the news," Takamaki says, eyes downcast. "I thought you were familiar. But I couldn't put my finger on it until I heard Niijima-senpai call out your name."

"I see," I say, nodding. "Then, you should both be familiar with how I killed Masayoshi Shido."

After a moment of hesitation, Takamaki turns anxious as Sakamoto nods and says "Y-yeah."

"Then, you should both be familiar with the person I tried to protect in that exchange." They don't react. "Or not. Media brought her up a ton at first, but once the buzz died down, focus drifted away from her and her family. It was all so surreal to experience. You'd think they'd be on her and her life for weeks, maybe months, but they didn't really even talk about her much, like she didn't even matter and—"

They're both just staring at me, wide-eyed and silent.

"—I'm rambling," I clear my throat again, "okay. Well. She was...," I rub the back of my head, "she was my girlfriend."

Now, they both look rather intrigued with _that_ idea.

"You had a girlfriend?" asks Takamaki, though the way she says it all is framed more as an exclamation than a question.

"Yes," I say. Bitter again, at the thought of how Kana was ultimately so forgotten, in the end. "She asked me for help one day, with her studies. And I helped her. And things...developed from there. One day, we were supposed to head out into Destiny Land. But that night, Shido just happened to turn 'round the corner...and the rest is history."

They allow me to continue, because they know that that just _can't_ be the end of it all.

"After what happened, Kana's mother suffered a mental breakdown. Her family fell apart. Kana herself began feeling...depressed. I tried to save her. Found the Metaverse Navigator in my phone, and eventually things got desperate enough I thought to use it. And..."

And then my mind goes blank. I try to make words, speak sentences. But everything just goes numb as I remember a giant, walking nuclear bomb.

"Kanzaki...?" Takamaki mutters in concern.

"It's okay, man," Sakamoto says. "If it's too hard for you, then..."

I furrow my brows, about to ask why they're being so tense all of a sudden, at which point I realize that my hand's shaking, and that it's probably been shaking for a while now.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," Sakamoto continues, bowing his head low.

"We're sorry," Takamaki says simply, clasping her hands together as she stares at the table.

I hold my forearm then, and the shaking persists for another few seconds, before my hand goes completely still, to the point where I feel it's almost about to go to sleep. I stare at the both of them, and they're both averting their gazes. Already I'm sick of the atmosphere.

"If we're gonna talk about what brought us to the Metaverse...," I turn then to Takamaki, trying to take everyone's mind off Kana's fate, "how'd _you_ get to know about Palaces?"

Takamaki looks at me, withered yet still able to carry on the conversation. Her voice is somber. "Shiho was my best friend. Kamoshida wanted to get into my pants one day. He thought he could just force me to sleep with him, and said...," her lips purses as her hands clasp tighter together, "that if I didn't, Shiho'd be taken off the volleyball team. But he never pulled through. I didn't know why. Then Shiho jumped and immediately everything just made sense."

She faces me then, "I overheard Ryuji and Niijima-senpai talk about something involving Kamoshida. I wanted in on it. I wanted to help them. Then I heard Morgana talk. So," she shrugs, "one thing led to another and I wanted to see just how they were planning on ridding Kamoshida from the school. I did _not_ think it'd be anything supernatural. Shiho's still in a coma. Her condition's not worsening. It's not getting better, either. But in the end, she'll never be hurt by him again, and that's worth it in and of itself."

I nod. "Sorry to hear that she's not recovered."

"Don't be," she says simply, almost looking like she's smiling somewhat. "I'm just glad she's okay. I haven't thanked you for saving her—"

"You shouldn't," I interrupt.

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" she asks, frowning now.

I just ball up my hands into fists.

Sakamoto narrows his eyes at me, "What's the problem? You can tell us, man."

I just shake my head. "I didn't do it for her. I did it because all I could think of was Kana."

Takamaki blinks. "Oh."

"I just didn't want to fail anyone again," I tell her outright.

Takamaki continues to furrow her brows, and from the look on her face, I'd say that it'd be an understatement to say she's disappointed in me. But I'd rather this than drag her along, letting her think I'm some sort of good man when I'm clearly not.

"At least you're honest," says a voice from nowhere.

"Huh?"

"What the—!?"

Then something jolts Takamaki— _"AAH_! What...!?" leaping out from under her and prancing about on the table we're huddled around.

"Sorry, m'lady," cat says, "I just like to make dramatic appearances."

Sakamoto cocks his brow up, "Were you just hiding around here all this time...?"

"Pretty much. When you're not in school, you're here, so I might as well just stay 'round these parts for the time being," it says. "Now. Where's Makoto? If we're all gonna meet up, we might as well have the _de facto_ leader here."

"She's late. For some reason," I mumble. "Probably stuck in traffic or something."

"Haven't any of you tried calling her?" asks the cat.

"We did. No signal, wherever she is. I'm sure she'll be alright, though," I say.

"By the way, what's going on between you two?" asks Sakamoto.

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

"You seem kinda close," he replies.

"You _did_ hear us arguing, when we made this deal, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but," he scratches his cheek, "Well, when we brought you here all those weeks ago, senpai said you told her about what got you into Palaces in the first place. That she brought you home, kept you from falling flat on your face, n' stuff."

Takamaki suddenly interjects, "She wanted to stay up all night, just watching over you, waiting to see if you'd wake up, but we convinced her that she needed to rest. She didn't even want to sleep, said that if there was only one mattress available, then she just wouldn't sleep. We had to force her to get in bed. The _second_ we got her to the mattress, she fell asleep."

"So she was concerned about my well-being," I shrug. "She's concerned about everyone's well-being. That's the kind of person she is."

Which reminds me, I need to apologize to her for being so rude to her during all of our interactions. She annoys me, but in the end she's well-intentioned. Perhaps it's the thought that counts?

"Guess that's true, but, well...," murmurs Sakamoto, eyeing me carefully.

I narrow my eyes at him, "What's wrong?"

"Well...she kinda had this reputation in Shujin for being...robotic?" he shrugs. "When she got her Persona, it looked like she became a lot more...uninhibited, I guess."

I chuckle, "Can see _that_ happening...she's just passionate about her ideals. Goes about it in a no-nonsense way. She can be annoying about it, but then again you don't see a lot of that from people these days."

"And you're trying to convince us neither of you are close," scoffs the cat.

Then the door busts open, "Sorry for being late," We turn to Niijima as she barrels in. Blue overcoat and tight black pants. Kinda sweaty. "Trains were delayed to the point I thought they'd never come..."

She sits herself down in the booth, putting herself next to me. Which I'm strangely okay with.

"It's cool," says Sakamoto. "Took a bit getting here for us, too."

Niijima just breathes, wiping some sweat off her forehead, "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing too important," the cat tells her. "We wanted to wait for you."

"Well. Thank you all for being so patient. Now...," she turns to me. And her face freezes for an instant. She doesn't continue talking then; like the sight of me quelled any good will she might've had a moment ago.

"I remember the terms of our deal," I tell her right out, Takamaki and Sakamoto falling silent.

She nods, "So do I."

"Kamoshida's heart indeed changed. He's showing no adverse effects; though he _may_ be suicidal, that'd just be pure speculation. He's turned himself in to the police. He won't hurt anyone else. You were right, and I was wrong."

She just exhales. "If you're going to work with us...we need to set some boundaries."

I nod, though I'm still rather annoyed at how she's continuing to act like we're supposed to be _good guys_. "Go ahead."

"We can't do what you did to Kamoshida to anyone else," she grunts. "We can't _torture_ them, we can't forcibly drag them into their Palaces. We can't risk their lives. Everyone whose Palace we invade _has_ to survive."

"Easier said than done...," I mutter. "I still think we were painfully lucky with Kamoshida."

But the cat then says, "All you did was blow up his eye. _Real_ damage comes from more gruesome moves; bisecting him, beheading him, dismembering him, stuff like that."

Sakamoto blinks, scoffing, "Well, _that_ 's good to know..."

"So we just have to debilitate the head Shadow, _then_ take the Treasure...," muses Takamaki. "Sounds tough...what if we mess up and end up, like, cutting one of them in half?"

"Then I guess we bear the consequences," I say. But Niijima has another solution.

"We'll just have to be stealthy when it comes to Palaces. No honking Morgana's horn at the front door, no wild mad dashes, no Personas unless _absolutely_ necessary, and no riling up any Shadows unaware of us."

Still. Much easier said than done. But if I'm going to do this with other people, and I'm going to have to _restrain_ myself from going off the deep end, then the stealthy route really is the best option. If it'll be at all possible. "So. I suppose this means we'll need actual physical weapons as well."

Personas are powerful creatures, but if there's one thing they lack, it's subtlety. Flashing blue flames, loud exclamations of their names, wild attacks of all elements and all kinds. If we're going to go sneak our way through the Palaces, we'll need something to defend ourselves that doesn't cause as much noise. Our _fists_ won't do too good a job at that. Meaning swords, or guns. How we're going to get _those?_

"We can use fake weapons," says the cat.

"Fake weapons?" I ask it.

"Yup. But they have to be realistic-looking. Palaces are formed from cognition itself; if you fool a Shadow into thinking your weapon's real, then even if you've not got any real ammo, the bullets'll fly."

I think of guns, and I'm both elated and disgusted. But Sakamoto slams his hand to the table, "I am the stupidest human being on the planet."

"What's wrong?" asks Takamaki.

He leans forward, clutching his head as he hunches over the table. "There's an airsoft shop in Shibuya...never bothered buying anything from it 'cuz I figured _fake guns_ wouldn't do us any good in a fight."

"Well, now you know. And knowing is half the battle," smiles the cat smugly.

"So we've gone from talking about being stealthy to planning on getting guns?" I ask.

"He sells fake knives, too; along with bats 'n whips, and other stuff...," he shakes his head. "Dunno where he gets half the stuff he has..."

"Is his business...legal?" asks Niijima.

He shrugs, "Not sure, really. He wears a gecko tattoo on his neck, so I'm thinking he's got some history with _yakuza_ or something. If that's the case, then I don't know what he's doing selling model guns or whatever."

"I still don't understand how you can still be concerned about whether or not what we're doing is _legal_ ," I grunt.

She just exhales in annoyance, deciding to ignore what I have to say, "What's the name of the shop? And who's the owner?"

"Dunno the guy's name. But the shop's called _Untouchable_."

"Is this guy...nice?" asks Takamaki.

"Didn't really talk to him much. Kinda gruff, but seems pretty okay with customers. Just respect his privacy, is all."

Niijima nods anxiously, before sighing, "I suppose that's our best option. Will the weapons affect us, as well, though?" she asks the cat.

Cat says, "No. As long as you know the weapons are fake, they shouldn't hurt you."

"Then we'll head to _Untouchable_ this weekend," Niijima nods, before turning to Sakamoto. "Tell me, though...are they expensive?"

He shrugs, "Depends on the weapon, really. Guns'll empty your wallet, but more melee-related stuff don't really cost as much. Still, it can be pretty pricey; once spent my whole week's allowance on a baseball bat from 'im..."

"It'll have to do," she says then. "Now that that's out of the way...we'll need to find a way to train ourselves. If we're going to go all the way with this, stealing hearts and diving into Palaces, we'll need to train our bodies, our Personas, the way we'll handle our weapons. We can't always be living on a knife-edge."

And the cat says, "I have the perfect place, for that. That being said...how much free time do you guys have? What're your class schedules like?"

"Classes end at five PM, and go from Monday to Saturday," I tell it.

"Then let's meet next Sunday, at 3:00 PM," it replies. "Unless you'd like to get into the thick of it today?"

Sakamoto raises his hand, "Pass. Gotta help mom with groceries."

Takamaki shakes her head, "I'm pretty busy with homework."

"I'm free, but if we're gonna train, it's best if we're all in the mess together," I reply.

Takamaki narrows her eyes, "How'd you finish the Math homework so quickly?"

I shrug, "It's not that difficult."

She eyes me flatly, "Anyone told you how easy it is for you to look like you're—?"

"What about tomorrow?" asks the cat.

"I'm free," says Sakamoto.

Niijima shakes her head, "I can't. My sister's coming tomorrow, and I'll need to stay at home to tend to things."

"You and your sister don't live together?" I ask.

"We do, but she's out often. Being a prosecutor demands a lot of her time," she sighs.

"I have to visit Shiho tomorrow," Takamaki says.

The cat says then, "Next Sunday it is."

Niijima then asks, "What kind of training regimen do you have in mind?"

"It's called _Mementos_ ," replies the cat. "It's not something I can really _explain_ without you getting an actual glimpse of it firsthand."

"Is it a Palace?" I ask it.

"It's a different kind of Palace. Way bigger than Kamoshida's. A lot like a maze. Depending on how deep you are, you could be stuck in a place with twenty Kamoshida-level Shadows."

Sakamoto's eyes widen, "You're kidding."

Takamaki shares his sentiments. "What kind of _training_ is that? We'll be too _dead_ to invade any Palaces after a single session!"

Cat says, "Relax, we won't be going in very far. Just a little bit past the entrance. The Shadows there are around your level, so we shouldn't have that much of a hard time. Nothing too bad. I'm sure we'll all survive."

"Good to know," sighs Niijima. "Is there anything else we'll need for all this, though? Anything we're missing?"

"Sure. Codenames," says the cat, to which Takamaki's eyes light up.

Both Niijima and I ask at the same time, " _What_."

"And a team name!" it continues. "Can't forget that."

Sakamoto scratches his head, "How'll that help us?"

"They're actually important, when it comes to stealing Treasures 'n stuff. If you enter a Palace and say your real name outright, it could affect the Palace's structure in some way. It's best to protect your identity under a codename."

Codenames, excessively flamboyant outfits, stealing Treasures from Palaces. "It's like some _anime_...," I groan.

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" the cat exclaims. "Now. When we're in Palaces or in Mementos, you can all call me—"

"Mona," I and Sakamoto say at the same time.

"What—?" exclaims the cat.

Niijima and Takamaki turn to us. Sakamoto and I face each other.

 _You go on 2chan, too?_ he asks me in solemn silence, raising his brow.

 _Used to_ , I nod back.

None of the others understand. None of them need to. Men of wealth and taste are content knowing another like them is in their midst.

"Isn't that name kinda...bland?" asks the cat.

"Well, it works," shrugs Niijima.

"Besides, names with two syllables'll be easy to call out in the heat of battle," says Takamaki.

Cat sighs, "Fine. I'm _Mona_. But what about the rest of you?"

"I like _Panther_ ," says Takamaki.

"That was quick," Sakamoto responds.

"If we're gonna have to go with codenames, I'll go with that," she replies.

He eyes her strangely, "Did you try coming up with codenames yourself, while you were at home?"

Takamaki's annoyed now and she's blushing a little, "So what if I did? I figured it wouldn't be so bad if I thought up names for myself. I actually even made up names for the rest of us, too. Just in case..."

She pulls out her notebook from her bag and reveals she's written possible codenames for us all in four separate pages. Back to back.

I blink, "Nice."

"Thank you," she says half-dismissively, flitting through the pages. "We've already decided on Mona. Out of all the names I've picked for myself, I liked Panther the best."

"Thought _Cougar_ 'd have been fitting," smirks Sakamoto, to which she knocks him upside the head. "Kay, I deserved that..."

"Now. For senpai," she says, hitting Niijima's section, "since her costume had a sort of biker-gang aesthetic, I tried to fit the name into that theme."

"B-biker gang!?" cries Niijima.

"Your Persona's literally a motorcycle," I tell her.

"Yeah, I know, but...well...," she shakes her head. Then she drifts her eyes to some of the names on the page; _Onna Banchou_ , _Sukeban_ , _Bosozoku_ , _Furiosa_ , " _Shoulder Pads_?"

Takamaki shrugs, "It was 2 AM, I was tired, and hungry, and still worried over Kamoshida."

"I vote in favor," smiles Sakamoto.

"I'm _not_ gonna be _Shoulder Pads_ —"

" _Queen_."

Everyone turns to me.

I blink, rubbing the back of my head, "Thought it'd fit."

Takamaki sighs, squinting at her paper, "Wish I'd have come up with that..."

"I like it," smiles Sakamoto.

"Good name for our team leader," smiles the cat, turning to Niijima. "What do you think?"

She turns to me, still looking a little antsy, but in the end turns back to everyone and says while nodding, "I...like it, too."

Why does she look so embarrassed to say that?

"Now, for you...," Takamaki says, getting to my section in her notebook and showing it to me. "Which of these would you like?"

Lots of names. Lots of really interesting ones. _Kakihara_ , _KANEDAAAA_ , _Devilman, Lucy_ — " _Lucy_?"

"You know. _Lucifer_ n' stuff. Your Persona's Mephistopheles. Thought it fit the theme."

"Mmm," I hum. Other names look interesting, but ultimately nothing feels like it'd stick. I try to come up with a name from the others in the list, but nothing really comes to mind.

Something comes to Niijima's mind, however. Something encroaching, something dark. Something that laughs.

"Joker." Everyone turns to her, now. She's a little flustered. "S-sorry. I don't know what came over me then..."

I nod, "Okay."

She frowns, "What?"

"It's really fitting," the cat grins. "Before we drove Kamoshida into the Palace, he told him a joke."

Niijima holds her head, "You can't be serious..."

"Must've been a real funny joke," Sakamoto says, bumping against my shoulder.

"Not really," I shrug. "It was just to scare him. You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Well, did you scare him?" Takamaki asks, brow raised.

An incredible sort of euphoria washes over me then, and I tell them both, "He bricked himself."

Niijima frowns then, "Has anyone thought of a team name?"

"Oh, right!" says Sakamoto. "How about _The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_?"

Nobody says a thing for a full twenty seconds.

"Too long," I say.

"Sounds like we're a bunch of old farts," says the cat.

"Boring," mutters Takamaki.

"I-I think it's okay...," says Niijima.

"You all suck, let's see you guys do any better," grunts Sakamoto.

"I can think of thirty different names that're all better than _The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_ ," proclaims the cat.

"Then lay 'em on me!" Sakamoto cries out, arms outstretched.

"I have a ton of names I thought for us already in the notebook!" exclaims Takamaki as she flips through the pages.

I turn to Niijima, and she turns to me. She looks more worried than she's ever looked. I just get the small mug of coffee under my chin and take a sip, figuring this is going to take a while.

It's a strange sort of feeling. To have people at my side again, and not want to ruthlessly shrug them off. It's all necessity, of course; Niijima had a point. If I'm going to go on this mad quest to steal people's hearts, I don't think I'll be able to go through it alone. So I'll have to get used to the idea of companionship again. I can see multiple silver linings in all this. More people means less avenues to make mistakes. Or more, because who's to say we all won't just end up making the same mistakes?

Mistakes that could cripple people. But then again, considering everyone's willingness to dive into Palaces again, I'd say we've kind of gone past being worried for the well being of those depraved enough to spawn Palaces. More people means more help in battles, not just on the field but in terms of strategies involving stealing Treasures and stuff. I can't rely on pushing my thumbs into the eyes of _everyone_ who owns a Palace. That being said, we all suck at fighting, so we'll have to get weapons or get good.

There are more positives than negatives, really. I shouldn't complain that I've got people actually _willing_ to help me out. Though I'm sure we're going to clash; I'm fighting because I like hurting those who do terrible things. I have a feeling they feel much the same way, but have more noble intentions in mind. Talk of "justice" and things like that.

And as everyone talks and jabbers on about team names, as Niijima continues to look at me like I'm some creature from the bottomless pit, as I place the coffee back down on the table and think of how much everything's changed, I remember that in the end nothing's changed at all.

There's someone I haven't spoken to yet. About all of this.

* * *

Everyone leaves before evening hits. It's an unceremonious goodbye. We didn't even come up with a name for the team yet. But we're somewhere. I waved everyone off, and only Sakamoto waved back. Niijima and Takamaki didn't even turn. The cat disappeared as soon as the rest of them did.

Wanted to ask it more about Mementos. We had a deal, after all. But I suppose that's for another time.

When Sunday hits, I do something unthinkable. I ask myself why I'm doing it. Why now, of all times? Why risk it all? It's been so long. She might not even be in the same place. Why would you think of seeing her now? If she opened her eyes, it'll take everything I have to not turn away out of shame.

Before I can even answer any of those questions, I'm already at her bed.

I'm wearing a grey hoodie. Glasses obscure my eyes. Nobody in the hospital or in the streets recognized me. Nobody even really seemed to care. Train ride took forty-five minutes, but it felt like hours. I'm standing over her body and even now there's this emptiness where words should be.

I told myself that I'd cross this bridge when I came to it. I've not even taken my first step.

Now I think of Kamoshida. Blurs of him, him and everything he's done. The relishing feeling I get from attacking him and his Palace and it all felt so good. But there's something else in the visions. Some sort of strange outcome that didn't happen, and couldn't have happened.

Kamoshida's Shadow reels back, the wound in his shoulder gaping and spilling out black. The bus turns back into a cat and escapes the chains, leaving the real Kamoshida free; but none of that matters. I whirl around to where the shot had come from, and I see it. I see something swathed in dark, red-eyed and vile.

Immediately the sight hits me and I know exactly who it is. He's on a balcony, he has another pistol in his right hand. And he's just standing there. He sees me as well, and the red in his eyes flare. Everything stops, the world just halts. When I see him, I'm brought back months. When I see him everything just comes barrelling into my head and into my hand.

He jumps down and I see him. And his eyes meet me. His flaring red helm and bevor, I hear the cat calling out my name but I'm stuck standing still. I hear the King Kamoshida screech out orders, the guards coming forward and lunging at the Wolf, transforming into all manner of creatures.

Kamoshida and the cat and I watch as the Wolf rips through the world, a man of black and white flying right out the creature's skull. The man is made of diamonds and the diamonds are made of diamonds; it lashes and eats and coughs out blackflame. It's laughing as the knights transform into their true and terrible forms, and as it cuts them to pieces. Black all over, smattering and spraying and spilling over the world. Washing over the Palace's walls.

I hear the monsters roar and their roars turn to screams. The creatures cry out and lash and rage, but fall to pieces before they can even touch the Wolf. He continues walking towards me, even as I stand there and watch. The cat calls out my name and Kamoshida, both Kamoshidas, scream out things I don't hear.

Enraged, I cry out, _Why_. I slash at him, rage at him, scream at him, _Why?_ She was a baby. She had done nothing to you. She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to die. Why did you do it?

He doesn't answer me. Even when he's emptied his entire gun into my body, even when I'm a bloodied mess of red mush on the floor. Everything unrecognizable. He just looms over the gore that I once was, staring down at me as though I'm less than nothing.

Kana doesn't move.

"I know I'm a bad person. I know I'm breaking my promise, and I'm sorry. More than I've ever been. If you could see me now, you'd be ashamed of me. I remember that conversation we had in Ginza. If the capacity for a person to sin is removed, then what makes them a person is removed as well. I see your point and even now I agree with you. I'm doing this completely out of selfish reasons. I'm not going to pretend like it's out of anything else. It satisfies me to hurt people who do awful things, because I hate them and I want them to suffer. It's not because I care about their victims, or about society, or about some sense of justice. It's me, it's all me, like always."

I think about telling her I miss her. That I see her in my dreams. I see her in real life. Every time I see her, it hurts worse. Because I know how much I've failed her, and her parents, and Masako. I'm sure that if I go down this path and become _that_ kind of person, neither she nor I can ever be together again. She'll be too good for me. I'll never deserve her. Even now, I don't. And I know that what I'm about to say is terrible, more than terrible even, but if she ever wakes up I hope she's lost all her memories.

Everything about Masako, and her parents, and Shido. Everything about me. I hope she forget every single little detail. Because to have her live _and_ remember any of it at all, would mean that God is cruel and unkind and deserves no respect or love. If He even exists. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe this is all it is. Masako's six feet under in a box, along with her grandparents, in the same place Shido is. No Heaven, no Hell. And if that's the case, then that's the most terrifying thing of all.

She doesn't move.

I know it wasn't my fault. I know it was a mistake. But I can't let it go. There's too much of them out there. Hurting other people with abandon, isn't it good for someone to stop them? Would it be so wrong? And— _he_ 's still out there.

She doesn't move.

"Don't you see? I have to find him. I have to stop him," I tell her. "Palaces are my only way. The Wolf, he's still out there and he'll hurt more people unless I get to him. I need to kill him. I need to. It's not just revenge, at this point—he's too dangerous to be left alive. He has to die. I'm right, aren't I? I'm doing the right thing. For once, I'm trying to do the right thing. For me, and you, and—"

She doesn't move.

"—it's justifying it, I know, but I'm _right_. I'm petty and I'm awful and I'm a killer. But he's _a monster_ , so I need to do it. I need to do it. I'm a bad person, but he doesn't even qualify as a person. I know I'm selfish and self-destructive and cruel beyond reason, but underneath it all right here and right now I'm doing things no one else can or will. They deserve it, they all do. I'll never be as bad as them, as _him_ , you have to tell me that I'm—Kana, _please_. Tell me that I'm not messing everything up again."

Let me hear your voice again. Tell me anything at all. I never even had the chance to say it. Kana, you said it before I did. That's not right at all. I should have said it so much sooner. I should have done a lot of things so much sooner.

She doesn't move.

And the sight of her not moving makes me hate her. Makes me hate everything. It makes me want to grab all the Kamoshidas, all the Shidos, all the Wolves in the world and crush them like sacks of meat in the palm of my hands. I want to see their blood fly. I want to see their minds break. I want to see them weak and weep and wet themselves and fill their pants up with everything they'd ever eaten. I want to see them burn. I want to see them burn, forever. I want to go to Hell, kill the Devil, and take his place so that I can torture them forever and ever and ever. I want to find God and take His throne and use a flaming sword to burn through the whole wide world.

If I had the chance, I would. If I could have, I would have.

"I wish I could have killed all of them from the moment they were born."

* * *

 **A/N:  
**

* * *

Looking back on my earlier chapters, I feel I may have been more than a little arrogant with how I've been going about this fic.

I initially set out wanting to deconstruct _Persona 5_ , believing that the game hadn't thoroughly examined its themes enough (about free will, morality, the nature of changing hearts for the greater good, etc.); I had thought that I'd be able to fully flesh those themes out through this story, since the whole affair really bugged me throughout my playthrough.

That being said, after listening to other people's point of views on the ending, I began to reflect on my own views of the story and have come to a sort of conclusion that perhaps the story didn't need to be as "deconstructed" as I thought it needed to be; that perhaps the themes were explored well enough within the game itself, given a certain interpretation.

For more insight, I highly suggest watching Aleczandxr's video _The Messages of Persona 5's True Ending._ It was an interesting look at the ending, and at the game as a whole. I still have my problems with the game; how it handled its antagonists and its pacing still don't sit quite well with me, and I still have a bunch of issues with the ending itself-namely how little we actually get to see of the brave new world the Phantom Thieves created by defeating the main antagonist.

But I feel that the video made me appreciate _Persona 5_ 's story significantly more, and as such I've come to the conclusion that I need to get my head out of my bumhole and start giving the game some credit for once. Be a little more positive and less anal about the various things that annoy me.

...did I just had a change of heart?

Also, is it just me, or did FF dot net remove the ability to put line breaks? Because the only reason I've got half the breaks here is cause I copy-pasted from previous stories/chapters/docs.

 **EDIT: 3/2/18  
** Knight Gallade brought up the fact that references Akira made to stuff like _Metal Gear_ were a bit OOC, coming from a guy whose primary interest before meeting Kana was studying. Felt the reference would've been a little amusing to add, but yeah, in the end I agreed with his statement.


	27. Chapter II, III

**Chapter Two: I Started a Joke**

* * *

Numbers dialing.

 **「** **Panther:** You guys there?」

「 **Skull:** Loud n' clear.」

At the end of that day in Leblanc, Takamaki was the one to suggest a group chat for the team. Niijima conceded then that that wasn't a bad idea.

 **「Queen:** Present.」

「 **Skull:** **Joker** , ya there?」

It takes of a minute of silence before they realize: **「Queen:** I guess he's not.」

「 **Skull:** Dang. Where is he?」

「 **Panther:** I suppose we'll just have to make do and nag him later :P 」

「 **Queen:** We'll meet later, at 3PM, right? We all good or do you guys have other appointments?」

「 **Panther:** I'm G」

「 **Skull:** Kanzaki's the only guy not responding」

「 **Queen:** I'll try calling him myself. I think he'll respond later on anyway. He didn't respond, but I doubt he'd renege on something like this.」

「 **Skull:** Dunno what 'renege' means but sure, I guess we could wait.」

Queen spends the next five minutes trying to call, only to get ringtones and _The Number You Have Dialed is Busy At the Moment._

「 **Queen:** He's not answering my calls.」

「 **Skull:** Seriously?」

「 **Panther:** He's prolly busy :/ it's fine. I'm almost never there when group convos take place anyway.」

「 **Skull:** Meh, I guess. Just a lil inconvenient is all」

I grab the phone then. Thumbs hit the screen.

「 **Joker:** here」

「 **Queen:** Good to see you.」

「 **Skull:** Tookya so long?」

「 **Joker:** been busy」

「 **Skull** **:** Doin whut」

「 **Joker:** nothing important. we meeting up later or no」

「 **Skull:** Yup」

「 **Panther:** d(・_・ )」

「 **Queen:** We can make it. Are you busy?」

「 **Joker:** no. see you then at the gun shop, 3 PM」

「 **Queen:** Why weren't you answering our calls earlier?」

At that point I go offline and turn off my phone completely.

I only answered them because the vibrating noise in my phone was annoying me. I didn't need that.

Not when I'm still at the hospital, with the girl I love trapped in a bed, her remaining brain functions likely disintegrating more and more by the day.

* * *

 **\- SECTION III -  
** **"But there is no Heaven, is there?"**

* * *

Something about the idea of Mementos unnerves me.

A distortion on a grander scale than that of Kamoshida's, one powerful enough to create a Palace _much_ larger than his? One can only imagine what kind of monstrous thoughts or desires could conceive such a thing. I'm anxious about the whole affair, but there might be something of value in such a blighted place. Something that may lead to the Wolf, of course, and whatever creature guides his hand in this _game_.

Maybe I'll find the Wolf, someday. I probably won't. But I'll keep on hoping. In the meantime, I'll just have to make do with the various other monsters infesting the country, cleaning up society one stain at a time. Maybe that might end up being enough for me, one day.

Oh, who am I kidding?

With Niijima breathing down my neck, I'll never have the kind of satisfaction I had with Kamoshida's Palace. That visceral, gut-wrenching feeling of robbing all his power away. Putting the gun to his head gave me a high no other drug could. Just thinking of that fear in his eyes, the way he wept and sobbed and moaned. It's not about justice, it's about _power_. That's all it's ever been, because it feels _good_ to make bad people feel afraid for themselves.

Heard people like him get the worst treatment of them all, in prison. Murderers and thieves and all other kinds of sickos lie in prisons, but some of them have daughters. Some of them have families. Most of them have standards. Beating up a kiddie-rapist is _one_ way to relieve stress, I suppose. I can see it now. Kamoshida getting battered in his cell, kicked around in the courtyard. Injuries so painful he can't even urinate without seeing red. Crying every night, the remorse and the daily beatings taking their toll. He grabs his uniform and fashions a noose and puts his head through it after hanging it from the ceiling...

And when he does it, nothing of value will be lost.

A part of me hopes it'll happen. Sooner or later. If it happens and word spreads, Niijima'll probably consider herself wretched, Sakamoto perhaps would be at least a little disturbed, and Takamaki'll probably not feel a thing at all.

Niijima wants to keep her conscience clean, however. Trying to still act like she has some moral high ground in all this. Don't know where she gets that idea from. In her mind, she fights for justice, so perhaps she can sleep at night better with that knowledge. It's almost admirable; you just don't see such adherence to ethics, these days. Doesn't stop it from being _so_ aggravating, though.

Weeks ago, she spoke of how _necessary_ it was for us to become thought police while I tried to get her to calm down and see the bigger picture. Now I'm the one complaining about how she's still clinging on to false standards. It would be funny if it didn't leave such a bitter taste in my mouth.

She and the others have no idea what they're getting into. But it's not like they _have_ to be aware. At least not right now. They're willing to venture into such a place as Mementos, and they're all blinded by their sense of justice or what-have-you. I'll get stronger. Better at fighting. All the other monsters in the world are stepping stones to the greatest and most terrible of them all. I'll tear apart every single Palace in the world for even a _chance_ at getting to the Wolf. Mementos might just be that gateway, I don't know. I've no other leads. It's my best bet at the moment.

But then again...if I and the Wolf ever come in contact, I'm sure Niijima and the others would end up trying to take the high road. "If you kill him, you'll be just like him," etcetera etcetera. They'll try to stop me, is the point. Meaning that if I and the Wolf ever clash, it'll have to be just the two of us. But that's assuming I'll ever be able to confront him...

...and I'm back at the beginning again.

I can't afford to have them stand in my way. But I need them to get me where I need to be. They'll overwhelm me the moment they see me trying anything funny. What they lack in brutality, they'll make up for in sheer numbers.

Tell them about how the Wolf killed Masako? About how the Wolf handed me the gun to drive Kana into a coma? No. Those would just be excuses. They can't have the death of a man, no matter how vile that man is, on their consciences. If they knew what I was planning to do, they'd do everything in their power to stop me.

I'm pinning everything on Niijima. On everyone. I'm relying on them to help me achieve my goals. But it's all up in the air at this point. I might not even find the Wolf. If I find him, I might not even be strong enough to kill him. Even if I ever do find him, and _if_ killing him is within the realm of possibility, Niijima and the others will almost certainly try stopping me. And if somehow, someway, I manage to get past all of that and kill the Wolf...then Niijima won't be pleased with me at all.

Unless she's too dead to try anything.

I'm kidding, of course. That'd just be going too far. Niijima and the others had done nothing to me or to Kana. But what will I do. What will I do, the moment they decide to stand in my way?

"Are you even listening to me?"

...no time to dwell upon it now, I suppose.

Speak of Niijima...and she shall appear.

"Sorry," I say back.

She and I are _at_ Untouchable. Right in front of the door.

Made it here at roughly the same time, too. Thirty minutes ago, she and I spotted each other on the way here. Wordlessly, we walked together to the front door of the shop. It was an unbelievably formal sort of thing, as though we were complete strangers. Wasn't really hard to find the place; even though it's in the back end of an alleyway in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Tokyo, it's easy enough to find on Google maps.

At some point, she had begun talking to me. I didn't try paying attention, really. But now she looks rather offended. She's wearing the same outfit she did the day we all decided to come to this model gun shop. Overcoat and tight black pants. She looks remarkably less dishevelled than the last time, however. Dunno why I notice that, of all things. But I do.

She just sighs at me, "I was asking you if you were—" and then she purses her lips, "never mind..."

"What?" I ask her.

"Just—never mind. It's unimportant."

I almost groan at her, shaking my head, "Alright, you do you."

She turns away passive-aggressively, as I lean against the wall. We're both waiting for Takamaki and Sakamoto, because for whatever reason they're inexcusably late. Hopefully the cat'll show up sometime soon, as well. Texted them both fifteen minutes ago; no reply from either of them even up till now. So neither Niijima nor I even know if they've woken up at the very least.

It's been an awkward thirty minutes, if you couldn't already tell. But it's sure to be at least less awkward with the arrival of the others. Now, all I've got to do is wait, and think, and hope, and pray.

"What guns are you thinking of getting?" I ask her, deciding to go for it.

"A revolver," she says, after a few moments of silence. "That's my best bet, I feel. Can't go with something weighty like an AR. A derringer's too small to rely on. A shotgun's best at short-range, and using something like an _uzi_ would just be irresponsible. I've been thinking recently, though..."

"Yeah?"

"Melee weapons...they might not be of much use against Shadows. And guns might just annoy them, but they'd be effective if only for distraction's sake and from long-range."

"Do you have training with guns, by the way...?" I ask her.

"No. But I'm knowledgable about them," she says.

Figures. She's the daughter of a police officer. Guess a certain knowledge about different types of firearms shouldn't be so _out there_ for someone like her. Suppressed guns may indeed be our best bet, actually...

"Are you okay?"

"What?" I turn to her, narrowing my eyes.

She actually looks legitimately concerned, "After everything that's happened...are you okay?"

I scratch my cheek and almost say, _Bit late to be asking that, isn't it?_ because I'm just petty like that. But the eyes she has on tell me doing that would be pretty needless.

"I'm...," I wouldn't say _I'm fine_. I don't think I should lie to the girl, not about something so earnest like that. "Why do you ask...?"

"I'm just worried about you, is all," she says. "I don't want you to end up risking yourself like you did back in Kamoshida's Palace. You're not still sick, are you? You look tired."

"I'm alright. There was a doctor around the corner, near my place. Gave me some basic meds which worked like a charm."

"There was a doctor near your place, all this time?"

"Yeah. But I get why you couldn't find the clinic. It's deep in an alleyway. Don't think someone would see it unless they were specifically looking for it. It doesn't try to advertise itself all that much."

"That's unfortunate," she sighs. "We could've gotten you there, instead of getting you to your room..."

"You shouldn't be so worried. What's done is done." 'Sides, my body heals up on its own anyway, if the events in Kana's _and_ Kamoshida's Palace were of any indication. Though with the latter, the cat's healing magic could've helped in some capacity. Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

She sighs, "I don't like how you can just thrust yourself into life-threatening situations so easily."

I shake my head, scoffing a little, "Don't need you watching over me."

I didn't mean for it to sound so condescending. But it did. I've been so used to being brusque and impersonal that I just end up saying such cruel things so casually. She, of course, doesn't even dignify that with a response. I probably wouldn't have, either.

We remain silent until Sakamoto and Takamaki arrive. Not even a single sound, from either of us.

* * *

The man's gaze alone is enough to give us pause.

It's not necessarily harsh, but far too uninviting. Sizing us up, he gets out of his seat and we see just how tall he really is. There's a white stick popping out of his mouth. He's wearing a trenchcoat and he's got a greyish military hat over his head. When he leans over the counter, we see the glint in his eyes and the five-o'clock shadow, and cranes his neck just enough so we see the gecko tattoo he's got on his person as well.

Takamaki eyes him warily. Sakamoto tries to look unimpressed, though he tugs at his collar. Niijima and I are unmoved.

"What're you looking for?" he grumbles at us all, but focuses himself on me.

"We'd like to know if you sell model guns," Niijima responds.

He raises his brow. "You don't look like gun enthusiasts."

"W-we are!" exclaims Sakamoto. "It's just, well, we're, uh...newbies to it all, and we'd just...like to see what you've got in stock? Any recommendations?"

He blinks and shrugs, "Just pick whatever looks interestin' to you."

Sakamoto blinks, Takamaki muttering under her breath, "Some customer service..."

"Fine. Automatic? Revolver? What is it you want?" he asks.

Takamaki and Sakamoto's expressions twist because neither of them did any research on guns before coming here. Niijima, on the other hand, responds: "Revolver, for me."

"Sh-shotgun," responds Sakamoto.

Takamaki grunts, and says "Automatic uzi," like it's the first thing that comes to mind.

Niijima turns to them both, eyes wide, "Are you both _sure_?"

Sakamoto shrugs, "Can't be _that_ hard—"

"You can't just get guns like those, you need to at least start out with a pistol—!"

But the man at the counter just turns to me and asks, "'Bout you?"

"I'm fine as I am."

Niijima pulls me aside, whispering, "You sure?"

I frown at her, "I already have a gun at home—"

And then it hits me. I left the gun _all the way_ back in Kamoshida's Palace. In all the chaos, I never bothered to get it back.

I turn back to the man at the counter. "Pistol."

He nods. "Just pick n' choose. But these things don't come cheap."

I nod, "Okay."

"This is an enthusiast shop, mind you," he grunts. "Reputation'll take a hit if my regulars see me letting casuals hang around the place. Just pick and go."

"Yes, sir," I tell him.

Sakamoto and Takamaki look visibly uncomfortable as Niijima turns to face me. She and I nod.

I get my wallet out and I pull out a couple thousands. Bills had enough zeroes to intrigue him. The second I place them on the table, he grabs them and flits through, checking if they're fake. Seeing that they aren't, he raises his brow at me as the three at my back stare in shock.

"Only the very best," I tell him.

Niijima pulls my arm again, shifts my whole body over to her, "What are you _doing_?"

"You gonna settle for something third-rate if we ever encounter another Kamoshida?" I hiss back.

She blinks at me, furrows her brows; she's almost about to protest a little more, but nods and lets me go. I turn over to Sakamoto and Takamaki, and neither of them say a word. But they keep their eyes on me.

The man just stares and smiles, getting up off his seat, "Follow me."

But before we can step forward, someone's phone buzzes. We all turn to Takamaki, who's already tapping away at her touchscreen. Her eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before her pupils turn watery and her lips purse. She's put a hand to her mouth and she's closing her eyes tight, almost keeling over.

"T-Takamaki...?" asks Niijima.

"I have to go," she mutters quietly, before repeating herself in a louder tone of voice. "I have to go."

"What, right now?" asks Sakamoto.

"Shiho's awake," she says, smiling and crying all the while. "She's awake."

Sakamoto and Niijima visibly show their surprise, while my balled fists for hands just twitch.

Niijima's the first to ask, "H-how is she, how's her condition?"

"She's fine," Takamaki strains to say, wiping her eyes, "she's conscious, says her mom. She woke up an hour ago, and the first thing she asked was if she could eat something." She starts chuckling, but she just keeps on crying through it. "I-I need to see her. I'm sorry, I know it's today, but I just, I _need_ to see her—"

"It's fine," says Niijima, putting a hand over her shoulder. "It's completely fine. Don't worry. Do what you need to."

She nods, "C-can you come with me? All of you?"

Niijima is surprised. "Are you sure? Isn't this just between you two—?"

"I can't face her," Takamaki shakes her head, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat. "I can't face her, not alone. I can't."

Because of course she can't.

Niijima knows that the girl feels guilty. Kamoshida had been hounding her for such a long time, and she'd put up with it for Suzui's sake. But she'd never seen Suzui, she'd never fully grasped the situation, and because of that shortsightedness Suzui was pushed to the brink.

Sakamoto stammers, rubbing the back of his head, "Wh-what about Mementos...?"

"If we're quick enough, we might still be able to head in. Although, that might not be for the best. But we can postpone it," I tell him. "It's best if we all go in together. Without much in the way of distraction."

Takamaki just nods, eyes red and lips pursed and struggling to catch a steady breath. I don't blame her.

If Kana were to suddenly awaken one day, I'd be much the same way.

I turn back to the man at the counter. He eyes the situation carefully and nods, pushing back my bills. "Go on."

Good man. Knows when he's not needed.

"We'll be back another time," I tell him.

He shrugs, "Do what you gotta do."

* * *

At some point in my childhood, I wanted to be a doctor.

Grew out of it as the years went by. For one thing, I eventually accepted my role as the heir to the Kanzaki Corporation. For another, I got scared with the idea of messing up and giving a false diagnosis, or cutting an organ I shouldn't have during surgery, or delivering a baby only to drop it on its head immediately after, etcetera.

So of course, I'm uneasy when it comes to entering hospitals. Especially now, considering Kana's situation. But here I am again, heading into a separate hospital from before.

Normally I wouldn't touch Tokyo Saiseikai Central with a hundred-foot long pole. Nothing personal. I just don't like being needlessly reminded of Kana, not so soon after leaving her hospital.

Took us about an hour to get here, but it didn't matter. Immediately upon entering Takamaki begins asking for rooms. And before we know it we're at _Room 108_.

And of course, the moment we reach it, there's something of a pause.

Takamaki's hands are at the doorknob, but she can't bring herself to open it. She's shaking. Niijima knows she's still ashamed. So she puts a hand on her shoulder, prepared to say something.

Only for me to interject. "She called you here. She wants to talk to you. And I'm sure it's not to tell you how much she hates you, or how much you failed her."

Niijima turns to me, shocked at my bluntness. But Takamaki is unmoved.

"How can you be so sure?" It's a question she knows the answer to. But it's a question she felt the need to ask, regardless; if only for validation's sake.

"She's your friend. She cherishes you as much as you do her," I nod. "I know she does."

Takamaki turns to me. She's furrowed her brows and she's almost about to cry again, but she wipes the edges of her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She nods quickly. Niijima and Sakamoto look like they're seeing her for the first time. And she opens the door.

We don't see much of Suzui through the door. I don't see much of Suzui through the door. But I see her eyes meet mine for just a moment. I see welts, I see bandages, I see purple skin where fair skin should be. But I see her smile at the sight of Takamaki, and that's enough.

They spend a long time together in the room, Takamaki conversing with just about everybody, including Suzui's parents. We three wait outside in chairs, everlastingly silent.

When Takamaki comes out, of course everybody just lets out a big cry over Suzui waking up, because it actually _is_ a cause for celebration. Niijima and Sakamoto express how happy they are for Takamaki and Suzui, and Takamaki herself just can't stop crying.

I don't really butt in.

It isn't really my place to interject. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that Suzui is okay. But my opinion just isn't necessary. The others don't like me, and I don't like them; I'm sure if I say anything I'll just sour the whole conversation somehow. I'll probably just flash back to Kana and become a broody miseryguts for no reason at all, and antagonize the group even more than I already have.

Suzui's a nice girl. Someone who didn't deserve the kinda stuff Kamoshida did to her. Someone who actually thought to tell me to take care of myself; to not pay attention to all the murmurings in the school about my past, for all the good that would do.

Is she a good person? She's _kind_. Different from good. But I suppose that's enough. I don't know enough about her to make any kind of judgment call.

If she wants to talk to me...I can just _see_ how the conversation'll go from here. She'll talk about Kamoshida, surely. She'll ask how I'm doing. Probably thank me for everything I've done. For trying to help her, and all. I'll ask her about her, ask if she's doing okay, the conversation'll go swell, and we'll become something like friends.

When I reach the _friends_ part, I become full of regrets and contemplate just running away right now.

 _Friends._ That's out of line. If she tries talking to me at school (if she even does decide to head back to Shujin), everyone'll just start looking at her weirdly. And besides. With my luck she might end up falling into a coma again.

It's dark and it's horrible for me to say, but you know it's true.

I can't even talk to _guys_ right without making an enemy out of them. Niijima's the closest person I have to a friend, and even _she_ hates my guts. We're not even getting into how I botched up Kamoshida so badly at first that I couldn't even prevent Suzui from jumping off the roof of a building. Maybe the conversation won't go as well as I thought.

Maybe she'll talk about how much I failed to do anything in time. How I couldn't help her, couldn't help anyone. How I kept on trying to do things the _right way_ , how I kept failing to do things the _right way_. I can see it happen. I'll mess things up again. It was fine with Niijima, I _like_ making Niijima feel bad, but I can't do that to Suzui.

I can't drag myself in the same place as her. What am I even doing here? I should be heading back home, studying or whatever. Preparing for Mementos. Waiting for the cat, maybe. Calling my dad, maybe. Haven't heard from him in a while anyway.

Besides, why would she want to talk to me, anyway—?

"By the way," sighs Takamaki, but it's more a way to clear her throat than anything else, "Shiho said...she wants to talk to you."

For a moment I think she's talking to Niijima. But when I face her, it becomes clear that she directed her statement at _me_.

"What?" I mutter.

Someone comes out of the hospital room. He's an old, balding man in his forties, and he's wearing a dark polo shirt and some khaki pants. He sees me, and he approaches me. His expression doesn't change, not even as he says, "My daughter told me about you."

I blink at him. He's shorter than I am, and the way he holds my hand you'd think my fingers are something delicate to him.

Then someone else emerges from the same door, walking over to me. She's a woman in her late thirties, wearing a yellow dress; she's just as tall as the man, and as such her eyes reach only up to my shoulder. She doesn't say a word, not until she bows. "Thank you. So much."

The man grasps my hands tighter as he bows his head, "Thank you for saving our daughter."

"I...I didn't..." Truly, this was strange. To be thanked for something. "I didn't...do anything."

The old man lifts his head to face me. "Don't you lie. Shiho would not be here if it weren't for you. We're forever in your debt."

I don't know how to respond to either of them. It isn't right, for me to be praised this way. It's something I don't deserve.

But someone puts a hand over my shoulder. I turn to Niijima.

And she says, "Talk to her. You _saved_ her. It might motivate her to recover."

 _It's not something I deserve_ , I almost say. "It's...I don't..."

"No matter what you think of yourself, or what you deserve, you saved someone," she tells me, eyes firm. "You _saved_ someone," she repeats herself, getting the point across.

She's right, I realize then. This isn't just about myself anymore.

I nod slowly to her, and she nods back; for the first time I see something like a smile emerge from her lips as I head into the room.

* * *

Her hair, when not bunched into a ponytail, is long and flowing, all the way down to the nape of her neck. Her forehead's bandaged up, as well as her right arm; her left is in a cast. She smiles through the welts, and the vacancy that was once in her eyes is now gone completely.

It takes me a moment before I sit down next to her, pulling up a seat next to her bed. "Hello," I say stiltedly.

"Hi," she smiles a little. Her voice is hoarse. It's weak. She shouldn't be talking to me, she needs rest— "It's nice to see you."

"It hurts you to talk," I tell her worriedly. "You need to rest—"

"N-no, I'm fine," she says, clearing her throat. "It's okay. I can talk, i-it's just...I'll be fine in the next few days."

She wants to talk to me. Why would she. I can't deny her this. "Okay."

"I just wanted to say thank you," she smiles again. I'm almost about to tell her _It wasn't for you_ , that it was all for me and my guilt and my anger and self-pity.

But I'd be putting myself over her needs again. "You're..." No. _You're welcome_ doesn't sound right, here. "It's good to see that you're awake."

"I'm glad to be awake...," she says softly, before leaning backwards into her pillow. "I'm sorry, I think I need to lie back down now..."

"It's fine," I tell her as she props herself up against the risen side of her mattress. "Rest as long as you need to."

"You...if it wasn't for you, I'd have..."

I frown at her concernedly, "Suzui, I really think it'd be best if you—"

"I wouldn't have seen my parents again," she says, and I stop talking. "I wouldn't have seen Ann again. I wouldn't have...," then her expression fades into stillness, staring a thousand miles ahead.

I'm horrified, instantly. "Suzui...?"

"What happened to him?" she grunts, her hands balling up into fists, the dullness returning to her eyes. "Mom told me he's in jail, what happened to him...?"

I grab her by her shoulders, "Suzui."

"I couldn't talk to Ann about him. Ann, or my parents. What happened to him," she faces me. Her eyes are alive. Furious, scared, all manner of volatile emotions—but alive. "Please. Tell me. Every detail."

So I inhale. And I tell her.

"He turned himself in to the police. Confessed all his crimes. He's been disowned. By the school, by his parents, by sports networks and news outlets and virtually all his supporters. He'll be rotting in a cell for years, and if he ever does get out he won't ever find a job again."

She glares at me. Then nods. Then breathes, "Good." And then she faces the ceiling. "Thank you."

"What...?"

"You had something to do with it, didn't you?" she says. "I know you did."

"I had nothing at all," I tell her.

Yet still, she persists. "Thank you." She grips my hand, with both of her bandaged ones. She holds it tightly, staring directly into my eyes as she says again, "Thank you." My hand is shaking in her grip, and I see her eyes glisten as her voice cracks, "Thank you."

I purse my lips at her, putting my free hand over hers.

For a moment, I see the world shift. I'm no longer in this hospital bed. Suzui's eyes turn green. Her cheeks turn freckled. She's awake and she's alive. She's speaking to me in _her_ voice. She's lovely, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you," she says, "for saving my life."

And I'm brought back to the real world. I clutch Suzui's hands tightly as I purse my own lips, and I remember all the pain I caused, all the promises I've broken, all the dead babies and nightmare worlds and the dreams that just won't end. Then Suzui's left hand slides out of mine. Before I know it, she's stroking my cheek.

I've been crying. They're practically pouring, now. And I can't stop it.

Green eyes keep meeting me. But they're staring up at a ceiling, dead and cold and empty. I see a little girl in a little box, going six feet under forever. I see hellfire, blazing all throughout the world. I see a dark creature, seething and red-eyed and throwing me silver. I see a photograph, kept within a small frame, of a family at an amusement park.

I see everything. I see too many things.

The last thing I see is Shiho Suzui in my arms, dangling off the edge of a rooftop, crying and begging for me to let her go.

The same Shiho Suzui I'm seeing right now. Alive. Because of me.

So I nod, and I wipe the tears from my eyes, and I tell her, "I'm glad to see you're okay."

She smiles so wide, you'd never think this girl had tried to kill herself just a few weeks ago.

And in that smile...I realize something.

Something I should have realized sooner.

* * *

By the time everything's over, we realize it's six PM. No, we won't be able to make it to Mementos today, but that doesn't matter.

Suzui's parents bow to us and thank us for coming and we're all glad to have come and it ends just like that. Takamaki decides to stay overnight at the hospital; Suzui's parents agree to let her be with them. Sakamoto and Niijima and I head home on the same train, but none of us talk to each other. It's awkward and it's unnerving but it doesn't matter. None of this does, none of this ever did.

I immediately get off at Yongen-Jaya and hurry home. Busting down the door I rush to the attic, brushing past Sakura-san doing dishes. He doesn't even register my presence, not even as I dash over to the bed in my room and stare at the ceiling, breaths heavy and eyes wide and heart pounding.

Suzui made me remember just how small I really am.

I remember what the creature told me, all those months ago, after what happened with Kana.

The Wolf may have killed Masako and Kana's parents out of revenge over what I did to his father, but he was enabled by _something_. An Aspect of Nyarlathotep granted him power, intended for his and my wills to clash one day, all for the purpose of some cosmic game.

It didn't register completely, not then. Now, it does.

Once I kill the Wolf, if I ever even do, I'll have to face the Aspect. And that's assuming I can kill it. It's most likely more powerful than Nyarlathotep, more powerful than any Shadow I could ever encounter. It's a creature that can grant the power to traverse the Metaverse, something borne of humanity's _desire for freedom from all responsibility_. I've forgotten the stakes. I've forgotten the scale of it all.

If what I've read of Nyarlathotep in Lovecraft's stories is all true, then this creature, whatever its name is, must be astronomically powerful. Possibly godlike, if I'm being pessimistic enough.

And I've just set myself on a path to kill it.

What can I do? What can _we_ do? I recall the dream, from long ago; just speaking back against Nyarlathotep ended up with my knees turning into anvils. And in her own words, she's in a weakened state. This Aspect has power, enough to make a game out of the lives of innocent people. I struggled even with Kamoshida. It was only thanks to Niijima and the other two that I survived that mess. Anything beyond that...

I haven't gone anywhere.

Nyarlathotep wouldn't give me the Wolf's real name, back then. Said that I'd fight him and die, as if that were fact. As if I was too weak. Her power served me "well enough" in Kana's Palace, but with Mephistopheles I _scraped by_. Even when I obtained my own kind of power, I just couldn't measure up.

But I _can't_ depend on Nyarlathotep. I refuse. I'd rather die a thousand times and feel every death. I'd rather Kana awaken, only for her to tell me she hates me and wants me dead.

Do I just trust Niijima and the others to help me get my revenge? No. They don't have the stomach for that.

But what are my other options? Continue venturing into Palaces and _hope_ Mephistopheles becomes strong enough to take on a god, assuming the Wolf doesn't kill me somewhere along the way? Assuming the Aspect doesn't just decide to take me out itself?

What if it's not me they decide to come after, however?

Kana's just all alone, in a hospital bed...

"It's palpable, you know."

I push myself up and out of the bed and I see her standing there, in my room. Naked, with her yellow eyes and her red scarf and her shark's teeth.

"Fear, hatred, greed, agony. It's all festering and boiling. You truly are an Anomaly. You have a desire. A distorted one, borne of your own misery and longing. You bury it with another, grasping at something you believe is sanity. You are merely buying yourself time. Your quest for vengeance is insignificant and you know it. The moment your determination crumbles, the last few vestiges of your humanity shall as well. And I will take hold of your heart, once more."

I growl at her, hoping to ignore her once more by turning away, but of course it doesn't stick.

"Put as much distance between yourself and the truth as you like. You cannot erase the distortion. You cannot undo your pain. Justify yourself as much as you like. Whether you push yourself forward out of justice or out of hatred, the only thing that awaits you at the end is an emptiness like no other."

"You don't scare me."

"You exude such _courage_ ," she smiles. "Our time is running out. You've obtained a Persona, so our interactions will be limited from this point onward. But don't you worry. You shall see me again. Your mask will come undone sooner than you realize."

"I don't need your power. I don't need you," I seethe, shuddering all the while. " _I don't need you_!"

"It's not a question of whether you need me or not," she laughs. "You gave yourself to me. Begged me, pleaded, licked my feet like a dog. I gave you exactly what you wished for, and so soul-crushing was your failure that you chose to then hide behind a mask just to leave me behind. You're running away from me now, but you'll come back. Not because you _need me_ but because you are _mine_."

"There was only one person I ever belonged to," I mutter weakly.

"Have you forgotten!?" she screeches, smiling ear-to-ear, smiling to the point where the ends of her lips stretch past her ears, her teeth chattering and her tongue turning blistered, fire practically escaping her jaws, "I am humanity. I _am_ her. I am _you_. I am _everyone_."

I just shake my head and wheeze out, "I wish I never met you."

"Who are you talking about? _Me_? Or the whore in a hospital bed?"

I glare at her. She doesn't smile. She keeps her eyes wide, boring her pupils into mine. Trained on me, like a wolf to a lamb.

"I'm coming after you," I seethe. "Once I kill the Wolf and destroy this Aspect of yours, I'll come after you and make you disappear forever."

"You think you're the first person to say such a thing? Everyone who's ever raised a hand against me has died."

"Then I'll take you with me."

"And leave the girl to die alone in a coma, unloved and forgotten by all."

At that I pause. I turn to the ground, unable to face her any longer. I hold my head, "Leave me alone."

"I'll rot away in my hospital bed, decaying helplessly, before dying a needless death due to brain damage. Or one day I will wake up and find out you are dead and gone."

"Stop," I turn away from her, leaning against my wall.

"I'll wake up and find out you are dead, and remember my daughter is dead, my whole family's dead, everyone I've ever known and loved is dead and I won't be able to take it anymore."

"Stop talking," I grunt, getting my knife out vainly.

She doesn't even laugh at my pathetic and ineffectual death threats, and continues, "I'll grab the sharpest object nearest to my person and I'll plunge it in my heart or run it over my wrists or put it in my eye or _shove it in my neck_ –"

"I said stop–"

"The blood will spill and all I'll feel is numb. My last thoughts will be of you as I enter a cold and empty nothingness in the vain hope that I'll see my daughter and my mother and my father and you again in Heaven."

"Please." I crumple, holding my head and barely holding back my tears, disgusted with myself and trying not to let the vomit come up in my throat. "Please."

"But there is no Heaven, is there? There is no Hell, either. There's just cold, and empty, and dark."

I grit my teeth and grumble and growl, shaking and trembling and holding myself close as I let my knees crash to the ground, my hands covering my ears. I put my face on the floorboards, pushing myself into the wood, wanting nothing more than to sink into the ground and vanish. Like I never existed at all.

And when I tear my head up to look at her, she's already gone.

* * *

 **A/N:**

* * *

 **SUTANDO POWA  
**

Honestly only aware of tangential information concerning JoJo, but I really like the borders around the Stand names so I thought "Could use it for the PT Group Chat."

So. This chapter had a ton of Mood Whiplash going for it, didn't it? Sorry for taking so long on updates only to put Akira through more sad stuff, but you know me. Always gotta get that Oscar moment out there, y'know?

I've been reading your reviews and I'm very grateful for all the positive feedback this story's been getting, and I hoped to push this chapter out at least partially as a sign that I'm not yet dead, just busy. I'm intent on at least finishing this story, as well as a few others that I've left out on the backburner for quite a while.

Sorry to say that Mementos won't be on the agenda _juuust_ yet. But I do have the rest of the arc kinda sorta planned out. Just to let you guys know, it won't be Madarame's turn just yet, either. So whose Palace are the Thieves gonna venture into next? You'll see next time; hope you'll be patient with me. I like to take my time on these things, and spend said time making things worse for our main characters.

My good friend Emiya2004, by the way, has made a companion fic to this set in an alternate timeline called _To Serve in Heaven_. It's a novelization in the same vein as this one, except with Makoto as the POV character, and a vastly differently-planned story. How different? Imagine this story, except less depressing, with a more optimistic sort of tone, emphasizing the _Fantasy_ aspect a lot more, yet still maintaining that sense of moral ambiguity our main characters are always confronted with throughout their journey.

Imo, it's pretty well-written, and only one chapter's been let out so far. Please support his endeavors if you wish; he's quite underrated as a writer on this site, if I do say so myself.

 **EDIT 5/18/18: Fixed some dialogue inconsistencies.**


	28. Chapter II, IV

**Chapter Two: I Started a Joke**

* * *

When Makoto returns home, she's met by an empty apartment room. Or at least, that's what she initially believes.

"Where were you?"

Makoto spots her sister sitting at the dinner table. Sae looks impassive, cold, but not upset. She seems more curious, than anything else.

Makoto answers, "I was with...," _Friends_ , she thinks to say. But then she'll have to explain to Sae why she'd hang out with them on a Sunday, when Sunday has always been meant as a day for studying. She'll have to bite the bullet. "I was with friends."

Sae exhales, "You were supposed to be studying." Then she turns away from Makoto. "I suppose I'll allow it for now. You've been very diligent these past few weeks. You should be able to hang out with your friends every once in a while."

Makoto's surprised at this. But she knows her sister's openness won't last very long. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

Sae raises her brow, "Yes, well. There's _that_ , too. Though, I don't blame you. Things must be very trying in student council." She stands up, walks over to Makoto, and places a hand over her shoulder. "I heard about your gym teacher."

Makoto's not surprised it took Sae this long to address it. She knows her sister has a tendency to just drown herself in work for hours, maybe even days. Sae's expression turns dark, and Makoto can tell just how her sister must be feeling underneath her cold eyes.

"It's all been taken care of," Makoto tells her. She sees that Sae won't budge. "He didn't do anything to me. You don't have to worry."

Sae nods then. "Good."

Makoto says then, knowing her sister's still restless, "He won't ever hurt anybody again."

"He had better not," Sae grunts, releasing her grip from Makoto's shoulder. "I ought to have a word with your principal..."

"Sis?"

"Kamoshida was at this for a _long_ time. Your school should've pulled more background checks on him. Instead they were just... _drawn in_ by his reputation as a former medalist. That kind of incompetence is unforgivable."

Makoto doesn't say a word. She knows Sae has a tendency to just rant at times. The dust will settle soon. And besides. She knows Sae's more upset at herself, than anything else. Isn't she?

"How has...school been, recently? Your grades," Sae says, trying to defuse herself and for once be the good sister.

"I've been doing fine. A few quizzes here and there, but I've done well in them all. The lowest score I've gotten recently is a ninety-seven."

Sae purses her lips. "Very good. And of these friends of yours...," she faces her, "they're good people?"

Makoto pauses for a moment. Remembers dark hair, glasses, a scowling young man who hates the world more with every step he takes. She lies, "Yes."

"Because I've _also_ heard that Shujin's also taken a...rather controversial person under its wing," she says, her tone hollow.

Makoto knows exactly who Sae's talking about.

Sae prosecuted Akira Kanzaki during his trial. She'd been recommended to take on the case by her higher-ups, for whatever reason; to say it was a turbulent case would've been an understatement. She kept an eye on the boy's progress even long after the trial ended, especially after she found out from his father he'd been recommended to _Shujin_ ,of all places.

All the connections Shido must've had, all the news outlets declaring and recounting the horrible act Kanzaki had done. But then the proceeds took into account international relations; a potential prime minister being a rapist wouldn't have exactly made Japan look particularly good in the eyes of, say, America or other Western nations.

Petitions were formed, Sae remembers. Online video and written essays about Kanzaki's innocence, proclaiming he'd done justice in knifing a man's throat right there on the sidewalk. _He_ _defended his girlfriend, He did what was right, He was a hero_ , so on and so forth. Public outcry, mostly from international waters. Then Japanese internet dwellers got in on it and spoke of his courageousness, declaring the bureaucracy as fools if they were to convict him; the whole world seemed to have Kanzaki's back. What's more, people from social media who'd worked with Shido had taken to telling their stories with him, all mostly unsavory tales of him and his attempts at seducing women.

Of course Kanzaki had his fair share of opposition; Shido had his supporters, both young and old, some reasonable and some _not_ , who wished for Kanzaki's imprisonment. Strangely, a good percentage of Shido's older audiences seemed to have been acquainted with Shido, at least in terms of business. Yet in the end, they all had nothing.

Shido had molested a great number of women all under other politicians' noses, when all the revelations came out and when the public made its outcries. Kanzaki stopped him, and the next course of action would've been to _imprison him_? The courts were practically forced to let him go, lest their reputation fall under.

Sae always wondered, even now, why the ICU had tried so hard to get at Kanzaki, and his family corporation. They must have known that there was nothing they could've held against him; true, the police force had been involved with Masayoshi Shido for a time, but there was nothing to _gain_ from imprisoning a young man who, by all evidence, had merely defended himself and his girlfriend from a drunk attempted-rapist.

"Is he doing well?" Sae asks Makoto. "I haven't heard much of him since the trial. Is he...behaving?"

Makoto doesn't let herself shudder at the thought of him. "I haven't spoken much with him. Though, rumors about him and what he did circulated, and eventually were confirmed."

"Who did _that_?"

"My old gym teacher wasn't very fond of him," Makoto shrugs.

Sae shakes her head. "Don't associate with him."

Makoto furrows her brows. "S-Sis?"

"He's trouble," she says simply, not wanting to discuss the matter further. "Distance yourself from him."

Shido was especially popular among the young. Many found his proposed reforms refreshing, and Sae herself even distinctly remembers people all over social media actively trying to _defend Shido_ from the many accusations brought out against him after his death. Some have started online groups discussing Kanzaki's culpability, Shido's innocence, and the like. Sae doesn't know why Kanzaki's father chose _Shujin_ of all places to put him...

Makoto actually looks pensive, which Sae's curious about. But her expression suddenly turns neutral. "Alright."

Sae nods again. "Good. Now." She pulls up a bag from below the table, "I have to go."

"What?" Makoto asks. "It's evening."

"I know," Sae says. "I arrived here at four, thinking you'd be here. It was the only free time I had, today. Now I've got to go back to work."

"Are you sure you don't want to rest?"

"I can't," she says. "This case is far too big for me to just rest up on. I'll be sleeping in a motel near the office, don't worry."

Makoto says, "Stay." Sae turns. "You'll take another hour to get there, and you'll be sleeping most likely even less than that after you're done. Just rest for tonight, please. You came all this way."

Sae doesn't let anything show. "I can't. I have to go."

Makoto knows when she can't convince her sister. So she folds. "Take care of yourself, Sis."

Sae eyes her firmly. "You, as well."

She trusts Makoto. Sae Niijima asserts this to herself, as she leaves the apartment complex and drives off back to the station. She knows Makoto won't pull any funny business at Shujin. She has too much of a future to give up. With the way things are, she'll get a great job and find a good husband and live her life far away from her.

And then Sae can just be content with herself for once.

Still. Akira Kanzaki's presence in Shujin is a sore spot for her. Truthfully, she sympathized with the boy and held no real ill will against him.

But a loss in court is a loss. And, well. Sae Niijima doesn't like to lose. _Especially_ not when her employer had promised her a payment increase if she were to win the case.

 _Justice won_ , Sae thinks darkly.

* * *

 **\- SECTION IV -  
Her hands are claws, her body's beastly, she has wings sprouting from her back and the clouds have turned grey from her very presence alone.**

* * *

Waiting is not something that Makoto Niijima does very well.

She can be patient, of course. It's just that this happened before. She's waiting at the school gates, waiting for everyone else to come over. The whole student body seems to pass her by, entire crowds of students leaving the gate. They scheduled this days ago. Everyone should've made it, by now. Perhaps they're being held up by class duties? She doesn't know.

The school hasn't changed much from how it was when Suguru Kamoshida had still been employed. True, the air is clearer now, and people throughout are free to say whatever they wish about their former gym teacher without any repercussions; still. Some part of Niijima thinks that the more things have changed, the more they've stayed the same. The hype's died down, so to speak. Every scandal gets old after a while, she supposes.

She wants to hear more of it, though. More castigation and condemnation. He deserves to have his name tarnished 'til the end of all time, as far as she's concerned. It's almost offensive to her, how people were able to get over him so _easily_ , it seems. They've replaced his spot in the track team with another teacher. They've completely wiped all traces of him from Shujin's sites and have scrubbed out all forums discussing his crimes. He's gone, without a single reminder of his crimes, so that everyone can just forget all about it and never remember a thing.

And that angers her.

She did what had to be done, and what happened after that was better than she could've ever hoped. Kamoshida's in jail, and he'll never see the light of day again without drowning in shame. But people can't just cast him away. They can't just throw him aside, once they're done with him. The school hasn't once brought him up in any fashion since his arrest, hasn't discussed anything concerning the rights of women on school grounds, hasn't promised much in the way of better background checks of their teachers and such.

It's absurd, once she really begins thinking about it. She's aware Kobayakawa's not exactly an active principal, but she expected more of him. It's been weeks, and it appears that he's content to just let the fires die.

She shouldn't feel so unsatisfied, but she can't help it. Perhaps this is simply the way it is, but why is that, exactly? Is it natural to feel as though your actions have no effect on the world at all?

Was it too easy?

Kamoshida's in jail because she was able to change his heart and make him confess. But she didn't learn anything, did she? There was nothing really _to_ learn. All there was was Kamoshida, a dog that needed to be put down. She didn't try to figure out what made him the monster he'd become. She didn't try to learn more about the mental instability that must have been plaguing him, she didn't care. All she wanted to do was make him suffer, make him throw his whole life away and rot alone in a cell forever.

But that doesn't get anybody anywhere, does it?

There will always be another Kamoshida out there. She knows that. But she can't change the heart of every single one of them; she'd have to be all over the world. One more rapist gets thrown in jail, sure, but what does that say about trying to prevent these kinds of people from doing _what they do_? Is it crazy or pointless that she's trying to understand what _made him_ , now of all times?

She could've done so much more with this power, couldn't she? To study the minds of distorted human beings...she could help so many people.

 _...What are you even doing_?

"Niijima."

She's jolted out of her thoughts when she sees a glasses-wearing dark-haired young man standing right next to her. "Kanzaki," she mutters. _Keep your head in the game, girl._ "What kept you?"

"Board duty," I tell her. "Takamaki's out getting a drink, and Sakamoto's with her. They'll arrive shortly."

She nods, "Good."

I raise my brow, "Something on your mind?"

"Sorry?"

I pause then. Why would I ask her that, why would I even care. But then again, why shouldn't I ask her that? "You seem unsettled."

She furrows her brows and leans against the frame of the school gate, "That obvious, huh?"

"Yes."

She smirks, "Your honesty can be refreshing, when it's not infuriating. It's nothing, no need to worry about me."

"Only thing I'm worried about is if your head's in the game," I tell her bluntly. "We can't be unfocused, not with what we're about to do."

"Right," Niijima muses.

Today's the day they're finally going to hit up Mementos. They've already arranged a meeting with the owner of _Untouchable_ at around six. Makoto lied to Sae about having a study group session after school (and yes, she feels bad about that), and a big part of her hopes Kanzaki won't spend his _entire_ allowance on their weapons (she brought a few thousand yen of her own for her own purchases).

At the thought of past meet-ups, however, Niijima lets her more acerbic side take over. "What's that you said, back then at the gun shop...? _Don't need you looking out for me_?"

I look at her. I sigh, letting my shoulders drop. Nodding, I respond, "I've been meaning to apologize to you."

She blinks. "I'm sorry?"

I say plainly, "You got me home when I was sick, took care of me after Kamoshida, encouraged me to talk to Suzui. And as for me, I've been...unnecessarily brusque with you. I'm sorry."

Her eyes widen. She _really_ didn't expect me to be so forthright about it, and it's easy to tell she's surprised behind the slight pink hovering over her cheeks. Then the pink disappears, she frowns, and she places a hand on my forehead. "You're not still sick, are you?"

I take her hand off slowly, and I tell her, "We're supposed to be a team, now. If this _Mementos_ place is as bad as I think it's going to be, we can't be at each other's throats all the time."

She's surprised. I'm not. After all, when you're fighting a god, you'll need all the help you can get, right?

She purses her lips, "Duly noted." And after a time, she comes out with, "I should apologize, too, then."

"You?"

She furrows her brows, "I dredged up some terrible memories of yours, back when we were still figuring out what to do about Kamoshida."

"No need to apologize for that," I tell her. It was thanks to her, after all, that I opened my eyes. "I don't hold it against you, really. I'm more upset at Kamoshida, than anyone else."

And besides, she wasn't the one who hospitalized Kana in the first place.

"I see," she mutters. Then she knots her eyes again, "Though...I'm not sure that's all."

I blink at her. Then I lean by her side, at the gate. "What's wrong?"

For a moment even I wonder why I'm doing such a thing, acting all nice to her, like she can lean on my shoulder or something. I apologized to her, sure. I felt bad about how I've treated her. Surely she could find someone better to talk to, maybe Sakamoto or Takamaki. Maybe even the _cat_ , or one of her other friends.

Even Niijima herself begins wondering what to say or do next. She's never been in this position with me. And every time we've spoken thus far, it's almost always ended with us at odds. She knows my intentions, she knows I'm not a _good_ person or even a nice person. But she recalls what I did for Suzui, what I did to stop Kamoshida, and that day in my bedroom in Leblanc.

 _"Her name was Kana."_

And at this point she makes the mistake: _He's not a good person. But I don't think he's as bad as even he makes himself out to be._

"I've been thinking. About this whole _changing hearts_ thing...," she admits, staring at her shoes. "I'm not planning on giving it up. Not anytime soon. But I think I've been a little narrow-minded about all this."

Interesting. I respond, "How so?"

She turns to face me. "I don't regret what happened with Kamoshida. That much is certain. But I feel more could've been done."

I scoff, "Thought you didn't like the idea of torture..."

"Not _that_ ," she grunts plainly. "I spent nearly all of my time in Kamoshida's Palace trying to beat his Shadow down. I was thinking that what we did, it...we didn't do enough. Changing hearts won't be a solution for _everything_ , right? There're people out there who'll be suffering like Suzui and Takamaki, and _they_ won't be able to venture into people's Palaces..."

"What are you getting at?" I ask her.

"We didn't do anything with Kamoshida beyond ruin his life," she grunts. "That won't stop this sort of thing from happening."

I scratch my cheek. "Nothing will stop this sort of thing from happening."

"True," she mutters. "But still. It felt like I was too absorbed in myself as well. Like, all I thought about was trying to _stop_ Kamoshida, I didn't try anything else."

Anything else? "You want to understand him?"

"Know your enemy, right?" she replies matter-of-factly. "We can't invade the hearts of _every_ Kamoshida in the world. What if we could've used what we learned to help other people?"

"How?" I ask. "Not like they'll _believe_ us if we tell them about Palaces, and the Metaverse, and Personas and the like."

"I know. But Kamoshida's a person. Not some side-show villain. Either something made him the way he was, or something didn't. Maybe he gave into the pressure? Maybe he was always just _depraved_ from birth and nobody cared 'til now. I don't know. I didn't try to know. And somewhere out there, another Kamoshida's living his life, inflicting hell on another Suzui. Because nobody can _see_ him, like we can. Nobody can stop him, like we can. It's like all I've been trying to help is myself."

Judging from the look in her eyes, something in her's a little guilty about that. So I tell her straight-up: "You wanted to do things for other people. You wanted to help Kamoshida's victims, and you wanted to stop him before he hurt anybody else. If it's of any comfort, I don't think you were being selfish. And as for Kamoshida, you and I did what needed to be done. Trying to understand him wasn't going to help anybody. There's tons of material out there studying his kind, analyzing and breaking down the various psychoses people like him have. Priority number one was stopping him, no matter what. He went too far, and he couldn't be allowed to hurt more people."

She just eyes me carefully, "Don't you think we can use our power for more than just beating Shadows down?"

I shrug, "Don't see why not. Maybe we're scratching the surface with this whole hearts-changing thing we've got going on. Maybe we can do so much more. But it's not on my agenda."

"It really isn't?" she asks, looking half-disappointed.

I tell her plainly, "You do whatever you want with Palaces, I suppose. If you want to help people, more power to you. I know what I want to do."

She blinks, then sighs. "I suppose I can't dwell on this forever. The past is the past."

And besides, she had little say in the matter. Kamoshida had forced her hand. Though Kanzaki was largely responsible for Kamoshida's change-of-heart, she had _helped_ , and questions of right and wrong had no more place when her lifestyle was on the line. And she _has_ helped, hasn't she? She's stopped Kamoshida, and now his victims can live the rest of their lives freely, without any fear of the future.

Or can they?

"I'll learn more about the Metaverse. I'll learn more about Palaces," she says clearly. "I want to know how these kinds of people live with themselves..."

"The more you understand, the less you can forgive," I tell her.

She asks, "What?"

I sigh, "Nothing."

For a moment, Niijima eyes me carefully, but leans against the school gates again. And recalls the words of a hunchback in a Velvet Room.

 _There Is a Monster In Your Midst_

What was she thinking? How could she have spoken to me so casually?

 _ ***SMASH!***_

Suddenly, a card, in her mind. A simple black card, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. The image, a laughing man, his teeth sharp and tears flowing endlessly. Half his face is smiling while the other is profoundly downcast. The card's name is _LA FARCEUR._

 _ **"Thou'st deepened thy bond with forces beyond thine control.  
With the perpetuation of the Jester Arcana,  
Thine wings of rebellion continue to be trapped in jeopardy.  
And thine captivity in ignorance remains imminent.  
**_ _ **Thou'st attained a great evil  
**_ _ **Surely to bedevil thee all thine days  
**_ _ **From now until kingdom come."**_ _ **  
**_

Makoto Niijima hangs her head then. She's forgotten. Of course, she's forgotten. How could she've been so blind as to let her guard down?

And I'm completely unaware to the raging storm brewing in her head. "Wonder where the cat is...," I mull ignorantly, daggers at the back of my head.

* * *

Morgana doesn't like being a cat, but he's aware that there are perks to it.

People find you cute, which can be a little irritating from time to time, but other times it's a way to get you free food. You may not have a home over your head, but the world's your oyster and you can travel wherever you please. You can't get together with girls, but you _can_ go to some of the more risque parts of the city and nobody'll bat an eye or call you a perv.

Morgana lives an exquisite sort of lifestyle, he knows. Still, he longs to be human again.

To run on human legs, to feel the wind on his face. His hair, what was the color of his hair? His body; was he lanky or bulky? Was he the most hideous man in the world, or an Adonis to be adored by all? Was he even a man? Nah, he's pretty sure he was a man. His cat form's got junk, so he can assume his human form does, too.

So many Palaces, and so little time. He knows a great deal about the Metaverse, but not what lies within. He's ventured into Mementos a couple times, but never too far. Now, he has that sort of chance. He's gotten multiple people over to his side, and now they're able to help his cause. They can fight for their _justice_ or whatever, while he'll be able to get his body back. Everybody wins.

And today's the day they'll all head in. But before he heads out to Shujin, he wants to check on someone.

When he first came around Kanzaki's place, he stopped by a house a few blocks away from there. He thought it was a good place to sleep, but he was found out at the front door. The girl there lives all alone, and when she saw him she at first tried to get rid of him. But she couldn't resist his _beautiful blue eyes_ , so she gave him a bowl of milk, first thing in the morning.

Sure, she lives in a pretty run-down place. The house is a mess. Plastic cups strewn about where papers and books aren't. Plastic bags full of junk food all over, chips and fries and half-eaten foodstuffs littering the carpets and the floorboards. There's cockroaches everywhere, and he's sure he hears rats scratching the pipes in the walls. But she's nice, and she's not trying to get rid of him anymore. And for Morgana, that's enough.

Today, he'll leave her house, as he always does at 5PM. And he'll head to Shujin. His stamina reserves are still those of a man's, for some reason, and so he's sure he'll be able to make it to Shujin if he simply hops aboard the train. But then he's banking on the idea that nobody'll notice. And as he turns to the orange-haired girl in the house, he sees something in her eyes, a sort of calm that he'd never seen out of her before.

To the girl, the feeling is...soothing, strangely enough. It's something she doesn't deserve, nor ever deserved. She doesn't feel cold, doesn't feel sad or happy or any kind of emotion sinking in. It's all tranquil. Everything she's ever felt, one would think she'd be scared out of her mind right now. She should be begging the pain to stop, crying out for Sojiro, crying out for Mom or God or anyone else in the world to rescue her. But that isn't happening.

She doesn't think she wants it to. She knows exactly what she's doing, now more than ever before.

She's a burden and she knows it. She's so sick of seeing the computer screens, sick of closing her eyes and seeing blue lines. Her fingers make such annoying noises when they're tapping away at her keyboards, and the world's never been so cluttered and crowded. It's all closing in on her, collapsing over her, crushing her and suffocating and never letting up. She's used to it, though. Too used to it?

Sojiro's suffering because of her and she knows it. The man raised her after Mom died, and he's tried his very best. But she's never been good enough, nor will she ever be. She was born broken, and it's just the way things are. It's nobody's fault but her own. She knows this, and yet she's never really tried to move onward. Never tried to adjust for his or anybody else's sakes. Always the selfish little brat who does nothing but look at screens all day.

He's been accosted by the law time and again. Custody issues and such have always plagued him, since he took her under his wing. From family members, from lawyers, from others, and she's sure he's sick of it. She's sure he deserves freedom, from her and everything she's done unto him.

She remembers her mother. As she always does. Staring down at her coldly, like a stranger. Eyes red, definitely from another series of late nights. She's angry, furious, bone-thin and large, too large, like a giant. She's screaming in a blazing and psychedelic sort of rage, screeching out Futaba's name. Her hands are claws, her body's beastly, she has wings sprouting from her back and the clouds have turned grey from her very presence alone.

Futaba Sakura stares down at the cat looking up at her.

She blinks at it. Then sees the time on her computer screen. _4:55 PM._

"Hm, that time of day already...," then she turns to it, picks it up from underneath its armpits, and smiles. "Alright..."

Her smile is weak, Morgana thinks to himself. She's had it on throughout his whole stay, and he knows she's going through something serious in her head. A part of him thinks she _might_ have a Palace. But he just doesn't know. He can't be too certain. He doesn't know her that well; she's just the girl who lets him room with her.

So as he leaves her place, trots out of the house, he forgets her and focuses on the task at hand: getting to Shujin in time, and making sure the kids who've allied themselves with him get acquainted with Mementos and the Shadows lurking within.

And she's left alone, to wallow.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I dunno, I just didn't like the presentation of most of the villains throughout the story. It's difficult to be invested in a plot where you're confronted with Generic Bad Guy #531 over and over again. And don't get me wrong, I am fully aware people like Kamoshida and Shido exist (and are often like that for literally no reason at all), but from a storytelling standpoint, it just gets dull to be confronted repeatedly by the same sociopath wearing different clothes.

I liked Futaba's Palace substantially more than I liked most of the other Palaces in the game, largely because we actually get to see Futaba's past in detail and we get to figure out why she's so messed up to begin with. Actively learning about why this Palace-owner is so screwed up is a lot more engaging than being told by Ryuji every five seconds "Wow, this guy's _evil_! We've gotta beat him up!"

And on a side note: the in-game event which caused me to actually think about adding in Masako to Kana's story was the section where Ryuji invited Mishima and Joker to meet Kawakami, funnily enough. One of the answers you could've given Kawakami when she asks who you are is, "I'm a dad." And then the ideas were endless from there. Futaba's story and plotline led me to think "This idea's too good not to use for _this_ character."

And so here we are.

 **ALSO** CHEGGOUT CHAPTER 25 FOR NEW CONFIDANT TEXT WHEN MAKOTO AND AKIRA FORM THEIR BOND!


End file.
